


Trying Not To Love You

by MissYuki1990



Series: Prompts [5]
Category: Harry Potter - Fandom, teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slash, explicit content, past drama/angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-04
Updated: 2014-11-04
Packaged: 2018-02-24 03:16:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2566304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissYuki1990/pseuds/MissYuki1990
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>The stranger was blind, but his stance showed no uncertainty. He stood tall and proud, having an air of a seasoned solder around him. The werewolves could smell something rolling off of him in waves, snapping around him like static electricity, and it put them all on edge.<br/>“I am sorry for coming so late,” he spoke in a low, velvety, heavily accented voice with a hissing undertone, betraying no real emotion except the strength of never questioned authority. “The time difference between here and Britain makes it hard for me to determine the right time to visit.” <br/>“Harry?” <br/>Everyone looked at Alan when he spoke up and walked past all of them to stand a few feet in front of Harry who tilted his head back as though he could see the Emissary, thin lips tilting into a small smile.<br/>“Hello, Alan,” he addressed the Druid with surprising familiarity. “It has been a while.”</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trying Not To Love You

**Hello again!!!!**

**When I decided to go through the stories that I have saved, I forgot to think about just how many one-shots I have.**

**Have I really written that much?**

**Never mind.**

**I just wanted to thank you guys for all your wonderful reviews and constant support. Reading through my stories I’m remembering how much I loved writing them, how much I loved the excitement and effort I needed to make sense of everything, and just how much I enjoyed seeing the completed piece before posting it.**

**Sure, as I’m reading through them, I’m fixing little things here and there, because only now I’ve realized how my writing style has evolved in the past years.**

**The good news is that my friend managed to find the files on my old laptop, and he saved all of my works! On that note, the reposting of all of my stories will go a bit quicker, although I still think that I will go through everything chapter by chapter, just because I think that I can make them even better.**

**Like I said, I’m starting to remember why I loved writing my stories so much.**

**Again, I would like to thank all of you wonderful people for being here for me. You have no idea how much your words mean to me.**

**All my love,**

**Ms. Yuki**

**cut**

Based on the request made by **gojyo-lover20.**

**Hope it’s good. I loved writing it!!!**

**Disclaimer:** I claim no rights to the characters of Harry Potter and Teen Wolf. They belong to their respective owners. The songs featuring in the story are ‘Nature Boy’ (1) sung by Nat King Cole, ‘Trying Not To Love You’ (2) sung and owned by Nickelback, and ‘When You Say You Love Me’ (4) sung by Josh Groban. I claim no rights to the songs.

 **Warnings:** slash, explicit content, hurt/comfort, past drama and angst

**Set after Season 3 of Teen Wolf. No Kate Argent. Everything’s good and there are rainbows and flowers everywhere. Derek’s part of the Pack, Isaac didn’t leave without a word, Chris packed up and left, and Peter’s lost somewhere in the Himalayas with Malia. Don’t care much for them.**

**cut**

_There was a boy,_   
_a very strange - enchanted boy._   
_They say he wondered very far, very far,_   
_over lands and seas…_

**cut**

Alan Deaton sat alone in the master bedroom of the apartment above the clinic. Reclining in the big armchair by the window he stared at the half moon shining dimly between heavy clouds, a glass of scotch cradled in right hand, left resting on the armrest. Strong, usually squared shoulders were hunched and full lips were down-turned with sadness and sorrow.

Usually, at this time, he would be either with Scott helping him improve as an Alpha or with young Stiles, teaching him how to be a good Emissary to Scott one day, or maybe he would be spending the evening reading a good book.

But not on that night.

On that night he had no will to do either one of those things.

On that night he preferred to be alone. One night each year he preferred to think, to remember.

On that one night he allowed himself to mourn the biggest mistake in his life.

Glimmering with tears deep brown eyes slipped closed and Alan gulped heavily, head hitting back against the backrest as a sharp breath left parted lips, a curse passing through clenched teeth as tears trailed down his cheeks, brow furrowed with pain and sorrow.

On that night, 15 years ago, Alan Deaton made the biggest mistake in his life. He made a lot of them, sure, just like everyone else, but this one? For this one mistake he would be paying until his last breath.

On that night he lost the one person he ever truly loved.

**cut**

_A little shy,_   
_and sad of eye,_   
_but very wise was he…_

**cut**

At that time Alan thought he was doing the right thing. He was just succeeding his father as the Emissary of the Hale Pack. He found duty more important than feelings. He didn’t heed his father’s or Talia’s warnings.

They were telling him to keep the young man - the beautiful, sad, scarred, world-weary wizard which strayed onto their lands. They were telling him not to ignore his heart, to let himself love.

But Alan ignored their warnings.

It didn’t take long for him to realize that he made a huge mistake, but it was already too late. The only person he could ever love was gone. Gone to fulfill his duty.

And Alan was left with only memories and regrets.

**cut**

_And then one day -_   
_a magic day he passed my way._   
_And while we spoke of many things_   
_\- fools and kings -_   
_This he said to me…_

**cut**

Ever since then Alan lived in self-loathing and emotional isolation. There was no way for the Emissary to correct the mistake he made, no way for him to find his forlorn lover.

The only thing he could do was quietly suffer and hope that someday he would at least get the chance to apologize, for he knew that there was nothing else he could hope for.

With a heavy sigh, Deaton emptied the glass of scotch, gulping down the bitter drink, and standing up he walked with heavy footsteps over to the nightstand beside the bed. With trembling fingers, Alan placed the glass on the nightstand and opened the first drawer taking out a small black velvet box.

His greatest treasure and his greatest pain.

Fresh tears filled eyes dilated with pain as he opened the box and gazed down at the pendant, the crest made by combining three crests of three oldest and most powerful families of Wizarding Britain.

Holding the box in his left hand, Alan traced the patterns of a Unicorn, a Griffin and an intricate design of a circle within a triangle around it, and a straight line crossing them both.

He closed the box, fisting his left hand around it, and raised his right fist to his forehead, letting go of a harsh breath, strong shoulders heaving with strain of trying to muffle painful gasps.

“Harry,” he choked out, hands falling to his sides as he tilted his head back, eyes closed and tears trailing down his face. “I’m so sorry.”

**cut**

_“The greatest thing you’ll ever learn_   
_is just to love,_   
_and be loved in return.”_

**cut**

“I think that concludes the meeting for today,” Scott said as he stood up and looked around Alan’s living room at the members of the McCall Pack.

It was early summer in Beacon Hills, and finally all of them could say that things have calmed down. With Ethan leaving after the death of his twin, Malia and Peter disappearing without a trace, and the Nemeton losing its power, Beacon Hills has been lulled into a simple existence.

But that didn’t mean that the young McCall Pack wasn’t ready for everything and anything. Taught by loss and prior experience, they’ve trained and learned from Deaton and Sheriff John Stilinski, making sure that they would be ready for whatever hit their small town.

They wouldn’t allow anyone else to suffer. They’ve lost enough friends to risk losing anyone else.

“Isaac and I will do the rounds tonight,” Derek said and the younger werewolf nodded.

“You all should go home,” Isaac added and the others smiled at him.

“Call in when you’re done. If you find anything-…”

“Call Stiles, and if we don’t find anything call in either way,” Isaac interrupted Scott in a bored drawl, having heard those words at least a hundred times by then, earning himself a hit to the back of his head, courtesy of Stiles.

“Be nice to your Alpha,” Stiles teased with a grin and Isaac snickered as he grabbed Stiles in a headlock while the others laughed.

They changed.

All of them.

Their bonds were stronger than ever, and they proudly called themselves Pack. It took a lot of effort but they made it.

Derek managed to open up and let them all in.

Scott managed to get the Alpha under control, growing stronger and wiser with the support of his Pack.

Stiles accepted everything that had happened to him with their help and encouragement, and was now learning from Deaton to become the Emissary of the Pack, although - to everyone’s amusement and joy - he would have none of that ‘an Emissary while part of the Pack must stay neutral and keep his distance’. His budding relationship with Derek was proof of that.

Lydia managed to get a hold of her powers, and just a few days ago she offered help to John if they ever come to a standstill in a murder case. They all hoped her help wouldn’t be needed, but one never knew.

Isaac and Derek talked, and the former Alpha apologized for everything. To everyone’s joy, the two were now close, with both Isaac and Scott looking to Derek for advice when it came to their wolves.

Kira and Scott were going strong. She managed to help him make peace with the loss of Allison, and they started dating just a few weeks ago.

It was hard - getting over everything - but they made it knowing that they couldn’t go back. Instead they kept it all in their hearts and moved on.

“We should go. Its already…” before Kira could finish her thought they heard the doorbell of the clinic ring, and Derek, Isaac, Scott and Kira tensed up, making the others look at them.

“What is it?” Lydia asked.

“Whoever it is, they smell strange,” Derek muttered as he looked at Deaton.

“I am not expecting anyone,” the Emissary spoke warily, glancing at the grandfather clock hanging on the wall beside a window showing that it was almost midnight.

“I’ll go see who it is,” Scott offered, knowing that the others would follow him no matter what he told them.

He walked out of the living room and down into the clinic with the others hot on his trail. When they walked into the front, they stopped in their tracks.

The man standing in the small reception room was someone they have never seen before.

He stood at a hardly respectable height of 5’7. His body was lithe and wife-like, but his tight black clothes showed that he was in no way weak, outlining strong, defined muscles of his torso, arms and thighs. What little skin could be seen was cream-colored, contrasting sharply with the black clothes. A thick messy braid fell over his left shoulder, reaching the middle of his chest, and messy bangs fell into an oval face, accenting milky green eyes which stared unseeing in their general direction.

Held by gloved hands with long elegant fingers was a long, black, red tipped walking stick.

The stranger was blind, but his stance showed no uncertainty. He stood tall and proud, having an air of a seasoned solder around him. The werewolves could smell something rolling off of him in waves, snapping around him like static electricity, and it put them all on edge.

“I am sorry for coming so late,” he spoke in a low, velvety, heavily accented voice with a hissing undertone, betraying no real emotion except the strength of never questioned authority. “The time difference between here and Britain makes it hard for me to determine the right time to visit.”

“Harry?”

Everyone looked at Alan when he spoke up and walked past all of them to stand a few feet in front of Harry who tilted his head back as though he could see the Emissary, thin lips tilting into a small smile.

“Hello, Alan,” he addressed the Druid with surprising familiarity. “It has been a while.”

**cut**

“Thank you,” Harry said, accepting a cup of tea from Alan. They were all seated in the living room again with Harry in one of the armchairs and everyone but Alan staring at him in aw and admiration.

“So you’re,” Stiles started but stopped to swallow, trying to formulate a proper sentence in his head. “You’re a _Lord_?” his voice was full of amazement.

Harry chuckled, sipping on the tea before he turned his head in Stiles’ general direction, unnerving the young Emissary-in-training. Stiles felt a shiver trail down his spine when Harry tilted his head to the right and thin lips tilted up a bit as he spoke, “I am Lord Harry James Potter, Head of Potter, Black and Peverell Houses, most Ancient and Noble Families of Wizarding Britain, yes.” There was amusement in the tone of Harry’s voice, unseeing eyes glimmering with something resembling mischief.

“What brings you to Beacon Hills?” Isaac asked, earning a swat to the back of his head from Lydia.

“Isaac,” she hissed incredulously, “that is _not_ the way to talk to a Lord!”

Harry laughed quietly at her words making everyone look at him. “Believe me, young Banshee,” he spoke dryly, “no matter what books on proper etiquette say there really is no definite _proper way_ to talk to a Lord. Being respectful is the proper way to treat anyone. Besides,” he smiled with closed eyes and head tilted to the right, “I must say that speaking freely with such young people is quite refreshing since I am mostly surrounded by people thrice my age who know no other way but the supposedly _proper_ way.”

Lydia blushed to the roots of her strawberry-blond hair and cleared her throat, “I apologize if I sounded presumptuous.”

Harry shook his head and lightly waved his gloved right hand as though brushing her words off, “There is no need to apologize. You are all young and you have a lot to learn. We weren’t better when we were your age, were we, Alan?”

The Emissary didn’t manage to hide the way he jumped in his place and tensed up after being addressed directly and Harry turned his head in Alan’s direction.

The McCall Pack exchanged confused glances at the behavior of their councilor. Alan was behaving quite strange for a man who was usually calm and collected, knowing how to react and act in any situation. His calmness and clear-headedness saved them a lot of times in the past, so they were quite taken aback by seeing him shifting his weight and constantly moving his gaze from Harry’s eyes to the floor.

“If I remember correctly,” Alan spoke in a heavy, strained voice, “the first time you met Talia you actually managed to offend 3 out of 7 basic rules of the Covenant in less than an hour.”

Harry laughed at Alan’s words, head thrown back and posture relaxing for the smallest of bits making the Emissary gulp and his shoulders hunch down minutely.

“You’ve met my mother?” Derek asked and Harry stopped laughing, turning in Derek’s direction.

“You must be Derek,” he said. “I’ve met your mother, yes, a little over 15 and a half years ago. I must offer my condolences even though it is a bit late. Alpha Talia Hale was a strong, wise woman and her council helped me a lot during the past 15 years. I was sad to hear that the Hale Pack was murdered. To my great dismay there was no way for me to leave Britain at that time or I would have found a way to locate the ones guilty of such a heinous crime.”

“The ones responsible for the death of my family have been dealt with. Thank you for your sympathy, never the less,” Derek answered making Harry hum, head tilting to the left.

“That notwithstanding, I owed your mother a lot. It would bring me great joy to help you in any way that I can. And before you say anything,” Harry raised his right hand to stop Derek from speaking, “I do not do anything out of pity or sympathy.” The tone of Harry’s voice left no room for argument. “I do not owe you a life debt, but if it weren’t for Talia I would not have made it in my world. Trust me when I say this, Derek, I take debts seriously not just as a wizard, but as a Lord as well. Magic has a way of settling debts whether we are willing or not. I am not offering money or property. I am offering help in any way that you might need for you or for your new Pack.”

Derek swallowed difficultly, but nodded in agreement. “Thank you. I appreciate your offer.”

Harry nodded minutely, returning his attention back to Isaac, “Now, I do believe that you asked what brought me to Beacon Hills?”

“Yeah,” Isaac murmured, glancing at Lydia as though seeking advice, receiving a shrug in answer. He sighed and looked at Harry again, finding the Lord smiling at him kindly, “but I think we would all like to know what brought you to Beacon Hills the first time you were here.”

Harry took a deep breath head tilting forward a bit as dexterous hands slowly rotated the cup of tea cradled between them.

“The first time I came to Beacon Hills I have to admit that I was on the run. A war just ended in Britain, and since I was one of the main actors and my lineage came out into the open, I simply needed to run away for a while. I traveled around a lot and somehow - I didn’t know what brought me here then - I ended up here in Beacon Hills. At that time this place was radiating ancient magic strong enough to stir even my magical core, and I thought that I finally managed to find a place where I could rest and recuperate from the war and the damage done to my person.”

“I remember,” Alan spoke up and everyone looked at him, but the Emissary’s eyes - full of memories and sadness - were focused on Harry. “Looking at you now I can hardly make a connection to the sickly-looking teen you were then. You could hardly walk and stand straight because of all the untreated injuries you’ve acquired during the war and your magical core was more than depleted. Talia and my father thought you wouldn’t survive the year.”

Harry chuckled darkly, feeling everyone’s amazed stares, and nodded slowly, “Talia and your father are the ones I have to thank for finding a way to heal me. The 7 months I spent here truly did help me, but more than anything they managed to prepare me for what would follow after my return to Britain.”

“If we may ask,” Kira stuttered out, glancing at Scott who was sitting beside her with his left arm draped comfortingly over her back, “if - if it’s not too intrusive, what - what happened after you returned to Britain. I don’t want to sound rude, but - but Deaton said you were different then, and I just can’t…”

“Can’t imagine it, right?” Harry’s lips tilted up a bit. “During my stay here I was constantly receiving letters from the British government asking me - better yet _demanding_ that I return to Britain. You see, just because the war was over and the greatest Dark Wizard of our time was defeated it didn’t mean that everything just fell into place. There were a lot of his followers still running free, and our government fell apart. I was not only a Hero of the war. I was not just the man who killed Voldemort and saved them all. I stood as the last living heir of three very powerful families. After my father died and my godfather was imprisoned there was no one to take the Potter, Peverell and Black places in the Wizengamot. Three of the most powerful seats were empty. No matter how much I hated the thought, I had to go back to take my rightful place as the Heir to those families. The wizarding World of Britain had to be rebuilt from scratch, and it was my duty to go back and join the fight.”

“The fight?” Scott frowned and Harry looked at him. “I thought you said the war was over.”

“The war may have been over,” Harry spoke gravely, “but it was far from being _won_.” With a heavy sigh, Harry took a sip of his tea, crossed lean, muscled legs and rested back in the armchair. “Upon my return I claimed my rightful place in the Wizengamot and after passing several tests joined the Unspeakables Force, a group of highly trained Wizards in charge of upholding peace and order in our world. For 10 years I fought on two fronts. One was the Wizengamot where I spent years working with others to fix everything that was legally wrong with our world. The other front I fought on was the streets. Although, hunting down those who followed Voldemort’s beliefs turned out to be easier than erasing centuries of prejudice and hate which wormed their way into out society. Creatures of all sorts, including vampires, werewolves, and others were severely oppressed, and something had to be done about it. One would think that sitting in a chamber with other members of the Wizengamot would be safer than running along the streets of the British Isles and Europe, hunting down dark wizards,” he chuckled darkly and almost unconsciously raised a hand to rub his blind eyes tiredly. “They would be sorely mistaken,” he added dryly, lowering his hand to wrap it around the cup again.

“Did you make it?” Lydia asked quietly, and Harry gifted her with a sad smile.

“It took me 13 years, but thankfully yes,” he answered, “our world is finally on the way to becoming what our creators, our ancestors wanted it to be.”

“Wow,” Stiles muttered and leaned against Derek who wrapped his right arm around the human’s waist and pulled him closer. “Never thought it would take 13 years to fix a government.”

Harry chuckled, “Maybe it would have taken less if the opposing forces weren’t as corrupt and intent on making everything stay the way it was. During one of the meetings at the end of the 9th year an attempt of assassination was made upon me and 8 others who were the strongest members of the Wizengamot working on the reformation. 4 of us succumbed to the potent potion slipped to us during the meeting. Some of the others almost lost their magic, fortunately suffering only physical damage. I lost nothing but my sight, but the process of recovering took almost 2 years. During that time my colleagues from the Unspeakables Force hunted down those who worked against us, and those remaining worked on reforming the Wizengamot. It took a while to find the lost heirs to the families having seats in the Wizengamot and training them for their new positions. I have to admit that I wasn’t even fully recovered when I returned to bring everything to an end. After it was finished I pulled out of our society to finally try recuperating. Luckily I have a few very good friends who were willing to work as my envoys during the past 2 years, continuing to do so now that I have pulled out of the public for good.”

“I would have given up years ago,” Stiles mumbled, shivering within Derek’s hold, and the werewolf nodded in agreement.

“It was my duty to finish what I started, Séaghdha,” Harry’s words made Stiles - everyone for that matter - stare at him in wonder. Only Derek and Scott knew Stiles’ real name, and only Derek could actually pronounce it right.

“How did you…”

“I’m sorry,” Harry interrupted Stiles and shook his head. “I often forget that my abilities make people quite uncomfortable. Ever since I lost my sight, magic found another way to make up for it. Whenever I am near someone I can,” he stopped as though he was looking for the right words, a frown marring his features, “In a way I can see and feel everyone around me, things they are - not necessarily of course - hiding or keeping secret.”

“Like Stiles’ real name and me being a Banshee?” Lydia asked and Harry turned his head in her direction.

“In a way, yes,” he nodded. “Sometimes I forget that I wasn’t told such things and it simply escapes me. But I’ve known that you are a Banshee ever since I walked into the clinic. I’ve sensed werewolves before. Their natural strength can be felt in the air by anyone cognitive enough. But you, my dear,” he chuckled and his face morphed into an expression of fondness. “This is the first time in my life that I have run into a Banshee. The power in you - around you - for someone like me it is quite an interesting experience to feel you.”

“Because you died twice?” The McCall Pack didn’t know whether to stare at Alan or at Harry, so they opted to just gape in amazement at the new piece of information.

“You died twice?” Lydia breathed out in shock and Harry nodded.

“The first time when I was a baby and Voldemort came to kill me because of a prophecy saying that I would one day be his downfall, and the second time when I faced Voldemort and allowed him to kill me so that I would be free of the piece of his soul which latched itself onto me the first time he tried to end my life,” he chuckled and shook his head. “Don’t ask how I am still here. That is a question that I’ve asked myself a lot of times in my life. The fact is that I am, and I finally have a chance to live my own life.”

“Is that why you’ve come here?” Scott asked, being the first one to shake off the shock.

“In all honesty, I hoped that the power source I found here 15 years ago would still be here. Last time it helped me heal,” a frown marred Harry’s features again, and everyone shivered when they felt warmth caress their bodies. “It is still here, but it is wilder. It is not contained anymore like it was before.”

“That’s because the Nemeton was destroyed,” Deaton explained and Harry turned towards him. “When you were last here the Nemeton was still whole and the power in this area was focused inside it. It was cut down a little over 10 years ago, and its power was drained a few months back. Now there is nothing to focus the magic in Beacon Hills so it runs wild.”

“I can feel that,” Harry murmured and everyone raised eyebrows when a delicate shiver passed down the Lord’s body. “It is already interacting with my core. But that is dangerous as well. Beacon Hills lies on the crossing of 24 vertical and 18 horizontal lay lines. The Nemeton was serving as a focus and a seal. Right now all that magical power runs free. It will inevitably summon others to these parts.”

“Like a Beacon,” Derek whispered, but was heard by all, and Harry nodded with a hum.

“There is power in names,” he said making everyone look at him, “power and meaning. Beacon Hills will see a lot in the next few years until the power which the Nemeton contained stabilizes. You best be ready to face a lot of different creatures.”

“But you already knew about it,” Scott spoke up and Harry turned towards him. “It didn’t summon you here.”

“That’s right.”

“So why?” Scott asked and frowned when Harry’s lips tilted into a small smile.

“Why?” Harry tilted his head to the right and Scott’s frown deepened.

“You don’t strike me as someone who would willingly say all of that to someone you don’t know and yet you’ve told us practically everything. Sure, it looks like you know Deaton, but you could have asked to be left alone. Why did you share all of that with us?”

Harry chuckled and smirked, “For such a young Alpha you have a good head on your shoulders.”

Scott was slightly taken aback by that.

Harry sighed and straightened in his seat, “You are right. I wouldn’t have said so much to just about anyone. The reason why I’ve told you that is because that is one of the conditions of the Covenant. One must explain the reason before asking the Alpha to be allowed to take residence in the Pack’s territory.”

Stunned silence settled over the room as everyone stared at Harry.

“What?” Scott managed to press out and Harry laughed lightly.

“I knew there was a new Pack in Beacon Hills. Yesterday I finally managed to finalize the papers which would allow my envoys to work in my stead so that I could leave Britain. I came to see Alan because I knew that he would know how to get in contact with the new Alpha of Beacon Hills. It was pure coincidence that you were all here already otherwise I would have asked for a formal meeting. I don’t know how much Alan told you about the rules of the Covenant, but one cannot just walk onto a Pack’s territory if they know it was already claimed. The punishments are not severe, but it is not good manners to just move in and stake your claim.”

“So you’re,” Scott cleared his throat and tried again, “you’re asking me if I will allow you to live in Beacon Hills?”

“Of course,” Harry nodded. “I am a Lord and a wizard, Alpha McCall, and a quite powerful one at that. These lands belong to you and your Pack. They are protected by all of you. If I were to live here it has to be made clear either verbally or through a contract that I would not interrupt your growth and any actions towards protection of these lands, and aid you in any way that I can if the need arises. Just picture it like this. You are the landlords and I wish to, ah,” he chuckled, “ _rent_ a piece of your land where I could live my own life. It is only normal that I ask for permission, right?”

“Why, _yes_ , but,” Scott looked at Kira and she shrugged her shoulders helplessly making him look at the other members of his Pack. In the end Scott turned to Alan finding him staring at Harry with an expression Scott couldn’t name. To his shock there was horror, surprise, sadness, joy, guilt and so much more to be found in Deaton’s eyes, and the young Alpha couldn’t help but think that there was some history between his mentor and Harry.

“Why here?” Derek asked and Harry smiled.

“Because of the power which flows through this place. It is great enough to help me heal, and also help me hide myself from those wishing to find me. I have grown very tired of fighting, Derek. I only wish to live the rest of my life in peace. It took two years for me to arrange everything so that I could leave, and yet there is no doubt that I will be forced to return to Britain occasionally. I am aware of that. But I want to spend my life in a place where I won’t have to worry about people hounding my every step. I want to be able to take a walk without being surrounded by guards and either adoring fans or angry opposition. I want - I _need_ peace. Beacon Hills offered it to me once,” Harry looked at Scott and the young Alpha felt his heart clench at the honest need visible on Harry’s handsome face. “May I hope that I will find peace here again?”

Scott exchanged glances with everyone, and a smile tilted his lips when one after another the members of his Pack offered confirming nods.

He looked at Harry, seeing the relief which colored the Lord’s unseeing eyes, and in his heart he knew he was doing the right thing, “You may stay for as long as you want. Unless the situation is dire, we will not ask of you to fight any battles we may face, and I only ask that you remain in contact so I can ask for advice and guidance if you will be the one able to provide it.”

Harry let go of a long breath and his eyes slid closed, thin lips tilting into a small, peaceful smile. “Thank you, Alpha McCall,” he spoke tiredly. “I accept your conditions and swear to do so upon my magic and name.” A wave of warmth passed over the room making everyone shiver.

“Do you have a place to stay in?” Scott asked and Harry shook his head.

“I intended to stay at a hotel. I didn’t want to find an apartment before speaking to you,” he answered making Scott frown and look around.

“We can’t allow that. Until you find an apartment which will suit your tastes you’re welcome to stay with one of us,” he offered to Harry’s obvious surprise.

“I wouldn’t wish to burden anyone,” he spoke firmly. “Finding a hotel room will not be a problem since there are a few here that are well known and will offer good accommodations until I found a house. Please, you don’t need to worry about me. I am quite apt at taking care of myself,” he finished with a small smirk, but his words didn’t make Scott feel any better.

“You and Scott will need to make a contract,” Alan spoke up and everyone turned to him, not missing the frown which marred Harry’s face for a second before he schooled his expression into that same calm mask. Alan shifted his weight, hands clasped behind his back, and cleared his throat, “There are Hunters in these parts and a written contract is the best way to insure that you won’t be bothered by anyone. Thus, I suggest that you remain in close proximity so that you can be easily contacted. To that purpose I offer my guestroom to you.”

Alan’s words seemed to have had an impact of sorts on the Lord sitting in their company, for no one failed to notice the way his shoulders tensed up and his back straightened, elegant fingers curling tightly around the white cup of tea.

“Would that be alright with you, Lord Potter?” Scott asked and the Lord barely concealed a twitch, tongue peaking out to wet dry lips, and every werewolf in the room heard his heart beat just a bit faster as the wizard considered Alan’s offer.

“I do not wish to burden you, Alan,” he spoke with hardly concealed strain, and Scott saw the way Alan’s jaw tightened although he did his best to smile.

“Believe me, Harry,” he spoke in a dry, tight drawl, “you could never be a burden to anyone, least of all me. Please, consider my offer. You would not be bothered by anyone here, since no one can enter the apartment without my approval.”

“If you so wish,” Harry spoke in a surprisingly small voice, a tone which the whole Pack was sure was rarely heard from the powerful Lord.

“It would be my pleasure,” Alan bowed his head as though Harry could see him, and the Pack was yet again surprised when Harry returned the bow with a minute nod, confirming everyone’s suspicions that even though he was blind he was more than aware of his surroundings.

“We will leave then,” Scott said and stood up, followed by everyone else.

Harry followed his example and approached the Alpha, offering his gloved right hand to him, “It was a pleasure meeting you, Alpha McCall.”

“The pleasure was ours,” Scott answered with a small smile, feeling the warm tingle of Harry’s magic caress his body as they shook hands, “and please call me Scott.”

Harry chuckled and nodded. “Then I will ask you to call me Harry, all of you,” he accepted. “Have a good rest. I will talk with Alan to arrange meetings in which we will arrange a written contract. I don’t want you and your Pack to have any problems with Hunters because of me.”

“Just take your time,” Scott assured him, “we are in no hurry.”

“Thank you,” Harry nodded at Scott. “Rest well.”

“You too,” with that said the Pack left the room, leaving Harry and Alan alone.

The moment they heard the front door close, and felt the wards fall into place, heavy silence settled between them. Harry was the first to move, placing the cup on the tea-table before summoning his walking stick into his right hand.

Alan didn’t know what to say. Now that they were alone, when there was no need to keep up appearances, he was at a loss. There Harry was, alive and well to a point after 15 years.

For 15 years Alan could only dream of this moment, dream of having the chance to say how sorry he was, to offer sincere apologies and maybe, just maybe, be able to fix at least some of the damage he did to the wizard.

And yet, even though he imagined this happening more than a hundred times before, even though he imagined what he would say, thought of full speeches, now he was at a loss. There was nothing the Emissary could do but take in Harry’s slighter form, the way every muscle in that beautiful body was coiled as though he was prepared to be attacked at any moment.

Alan wasn’t fooled. The Pack had only met Harry less than two hours ago, and they didn’t know the wizard, but Alan knew him. He knew everything about him.

 _Or I’ve known everything about him 15 years ago,_ he reminded himself with bitter acid filling his throat.

“Alan?”

The Emissary looked at the wizard and found him with his head bowed and hands wrapped tightly around the head of the walking stick.

“You’ve changed,” Alan knew that those words were not what he wanted to say even before they passed his lips, but it was too late to change them now.

Harry chuckled and nodded wearily, “Yes, I’ve changed,” he admitted and opened his once amazing eyes to look at Alan with milky, unseeing orbs, “You, on the other hand, haven’t changed at all. You are still the same man I remember.”

Harry’s words stung and Alan felt as though he was holding a stone on his tongue. He wanted to argue that he _has_ changed, that he wasn’t the same man stuck on duties and obligations, that he learned his lesson shortly after he chased Harry away, but he couldn’t push the words past the overwhelming guilt and sorrow which grasped his heart.

“Or are you?” Alan was startled by Harry’s whisper, and he looked at the wizard, finding Harry with his head tilted to the left as though he had been listening to something only he could hear. “It seems that both of us have changed,” Harry added in dry amusement, and Alan felt as though a hand of steel gripped his heart.

“Harry,” the Emissary took a small step forward only to stop when Harry shook his head and straightened.

“You were right, Alan,” he spoke wearily, with a heavy sigh, “I was running from my duties, and they would have caught up with me sooner or later. I am a wizard and a Hero, and I wouldn’t have been able to avoid my responsibilities forever. Even though it cost me almost everything, I had to return to England and make everything right. I am only sorry that we couldn’t part on better terms.”

The memory of the last night he and Harry spent together flashed through Alan’s mind. The way Harry looked at him when Alan told him that it was his duty to return to Britain and finish what he had started just as it was Alan’s duty to devote his all to the Hale Pack.

He remembered the hurt and betrayal he had seen in Harry’s once expressive eyes when he told the wizard that he was a coward if he kept running, that he would want nothing to do with someone who kept running from what he had to do. In the end Alan realized that _he_ was the coward.

After Harry left and Alan was confronted by his father and Talia, he realized that he was the one running. Alan realized that he has been running his whole life. Ever since he first found out what his family was - a family of Druids sworn to guide werewolf Packs - and he realized that he would never fit in with normal people, Alan hid behind his duties and obligations. He devoted himself to learning as much as he could so that he would be able to take his father’s place.

Harry was a blessing in disguise, and Alan failed to recognize him as such. Instead of supporting the injured, world-weary teen that Harry was then, after 7 months of getting to know the wizard, Alan chose to ignore his heart. He had ignored the desire and need which threatened to overwhelm him and lashed out. He chased Harry away, telling himself that he was doing the right thing. He pushed Harry into going back to a place where nothing but pain and suffering awaited him, just because Alan wasn’t ready to admit to himself that he _could_ in fact, lead a normal life while serving as the Emissary of the Hale Pack.

Alan has been paying for that mistake for the past 15 years, and his pain was only amplified when he had seen what him chasing Harry back to England did to the wizard. Even though Harry appeared to be even more powerful than he was before, even though the Lord was standing proud and tall, Alan could see the suffering Harry had lived through. He didn’t need to see Harry’s empty, blind gaze to know that the wizard had suffered worse than Alan did.

“We did,” Alan finally pressed out and Harry laughed dryly, quietly, shaking his head as though he was trying to chase away thoughts which appeared uninvited.

“Would you mind showing me to your guestroom? I have had a very trying week and I would like to get some rest as soon as possible,” Harry asked tiredly and Deaton nodded.

“Please, follow me,” he said and turned to walk out of the room, glancing back to see if Harry was following him.

“There is a bathroom attached to the bedroom, but we will need to share the kitchen. I usually get up at 7 to make breakfast, but please, feel free to sleep as much as you need. I open the clinic at 8:30 and close for lunch at 14:00. You are free to do whatever you feel like doing,” just as Alan finished saying that they reached the guestroom, and the Emissary opened the door to the rooms usually used by Marin when she would come to visit.

Alan stood to the side to allow Harry in, and a shiver passed down his body when Harry passed beside him, the wizard’s unique scent tickling Alan’s nose with its tender, sleepy fragrance of water lilies, white callas and cream, only slightly hiding the scent which was pure Harry.

“The bathroom is to your left,” Alan spoke to distract himself from the blossoming need which awakened in his heart. “If you need anything call for me. I…”

“You are a light sleeper,” Harry interrupted him with a light laugh, “I remember.”

A small smile tugged on Alan’s lips while Harry slowly walked around the room, allowing his magic to dance against different surfaces as to acquaint itself with the space. “Get some rest, Harry,” Alan spoke in a voice full of warmth, “you won’t be disturbed by anyone. I will make sure of that.”

Alan was about to close the door when Harry spoke up, the wizard’s back turned on Alan and only his head tilted to the side a bit, as though he was looking at the Emissary from the corner of those milky eyes, “Thank you, Alan, for taking me in. In all honesty, I feel safer staying with you than in a hotel.”

Alan gulped and lead filled his guts, “You are welcome, Harry,” he pressed out, trying not to sound as though his heart was trying to beat its way up his throat, “you are most welcome. Good night.” He closed the door on his way out, and walked into his own room on shaky legs.

The moment the door was closed, Alan leaned back against them and slid to the ground, burying his face in his hands as shivers wrecked his body, breathing became a problem and brown eyes filled with tears.

With hands falling to the sides, Alan hit his head back against the door with a hissed curse, and he swallowed over a lump in his throat, trying to fight down the feelings he thought he buried deep enough in his heart for them never to resurface again.

“I don’t deserve him,” he pressed out, reminding himself for the thousandth time of this, “I don’t deserve him.”

**cut**

_You call to me and I fall at your feet._   
_How could anyone ask for more?_   
_And our time apart - like knives in my heart._   
_How could anyone ask for more?_

**cut**

“I don’t deserve him,” he repeated for heaven knows which time as tears flowed down his cheeks, “I chased him away. I don’t deserve him. I don’t deserve him. I don’t…”

His voice broke and he opened his eyes, looking at the ceiling above him as though something would happen to finally convince him of his words and make him stop hoping.

“I don’t deserve him.”

**cut**

_But if there’s a pill to help me forget,_   
_Got knows I haven’t found it yet,_   
_but I’m trying to._   
_God, I’m dying to._

**cut**

With an audible gulp, Alan managed to get up and all but throw himself on his bed. Burying his face into the soft pillow he tried to smother the little voice in the back of his head telling him that this was his chance to make everything right, and suppress the feelings which threatened to overwhelm him.

For 15 years Alan kept telling himself that the only thing he could hope for was to see Harry only one more time to get the chance to say how sorry he was for chasing him away, for making him believe that he was forced to do something he more than obviously didn’t want to do, for making Harry believe that he wasn’t good enough for Alan unless he took up his duty towards a world which did nothing but use and scorn him, when in fact Alan was the one not worthy of Harry’s attention.

If that was true then, it was even more of a truth now.

But no matter how much Alan tried to convince himself of that, he couldn’t help it.

He couldn’t help still loving Harry, loving him more than he loved him 15 years ago.

**cut**

_Trying not to love you_   
_only goes so far._   
_Trying not to need you_   
_is tearing me apart._   
_I can’t see the silver lining,_   
_down here on the floor._   
_And I just keep on trying,_   
_but I don’t know what for._   
_’Cause trying not to love you,_   
_only makes me love you more._

**cut**

Unknowing of Harry’s own plight, Alan fell into a tormented sleep, not aware that just a few steps down the hall, the wizard was having much the same thoughts.

Harry was sitting on the bed with hunched shoulders and hands lying lax on strong thighs as unseeing eyes stared at the floor covered in a thick soft rug.

Head tilting back, blind eyes slid closed and a heavy sigh left thin, dry lips.

“Alan,” a breathless murmur echoed between walls of wood and two tears trailed down pale cheeks. “I cannot tell you,” he whispered as though the walls around him would somehow remember his words and carry them to the one who captured his heart years ago only to reject it, “I cannot tell you that I left to become worthy of you. I cannot tell you that I’ve done everything - suffered all of it - to be able to come back and stand in front of you. How could I?” A morose, subdued laugh shook hunched shoulders and Harry bowed and shook his head. “I wasn’t good enough then. I could never be good enough now.”

With a choked up huff Harry lied down, wrapped his arms around his waist and curled in on himself, squeezing his eyes tightly shut as sobs wrecked his slight frame.

_I will never be good enough._

**cut**

_Trying not to love you_   
_only makes me love you more._

**cut**

Alan looked up from the cupboard he was restocking at the ceiling above him. The supply room was directly below the guestroom which housed Harry for the time being. To Alan’s knowledge the wizard was still asleep, and a part of Alan was happy knowing that, the Emissary aware of how hard Harry found it to sleep if he didn’t trust other inhabitants of the place he resided in.

Having not slept well last night at all, Alan was happy that at least Harry seemed to have been able to relax and get some much needed rest. Even though Harry looked better than he did the first time they met, Alan could see that the wizard was far from being alright. Even though Alan was only a Druid, much weaker in magical powers than Wizards and Witches, especially compared to Harry, he prided himself in being one of the rare few Druids who could feel other’s discomfort and weakness better than anyone else.

Harry didn’t come to Beacon Hills just because of the power centered in the area. Alan knew that the wizard came there because his magic was compatible with the one residing in Beacon Hills, but there was something else that compelled Harry to come back now that he wasn’t obligated to remain in Britain anymore.

It was the fact that these lands accepted Harry the first time he was there. Mother Nature, the source of everything living took Harry under Her wing here where Her powers were strongest, and Alan had a feeling that ever since Harry left She has been calling him back into Her warm embrace here where magic wielders were few, and She could wrap Her powers around Her Child without worrying it would affect others in any way.

A self-depreciating smile tilted Alan’s lips, and strong shoulders sagged a bit. It was of no consequence that he was there. Harry would want nothing to do with him. It was a surprise to Alan when Harry accepted to be housed in the Emissary’s apartment until Harry found a place of his own and the contract between the McCall Pack and Harry was completed.

Alan knew not to hope, and yet his heart was filling with old feelings.

Feelings he knew would never disappear.

“Alan?”

The Emissary was shaken from his thoughts, cursing the fact that he strayed so deep into his mind that he hadn’t heard Harry awakening and seeking him out.

“Just a moment!” he called out and quickly finished putting everything in place before he hurried to meet Harry in the front room of the clinic, “I’m sorry, I was just…”

“It’s alright,” Harry interrupted him with a calm smile, but before the wizard could say more the front door opened with the tingle of the small bell, and Sheriff John Stilinski walked in, halting mid-step when he saw that Alan had company, although the glow of recognition in his eyes told Alan that Stiles had already informed the Sheriff of the new inhabitant of Beacon Hills.

“I’m sorry to disturb,” John said as he approached Alan and Harry, offering his hand to the wizard out of habit, wincing when milky green eyes focused on him. Alan noted with amusement that John was about to pull his hand back, and suppressed a chuckle at the surprise Alan saw on John’s face when Harry accepted the Sheriff’s hand without a fault in the elegant move.

“You are not disturbing,” Harry assured the Sheriff easily, “I am Harry Potter. You must be Séaghdha’s father.”

John’s lips parted soundlessly for a moment as they shook hands, finding his tongue when Harry let go of him, wrapping long fingers around his walking stick, “John Stilinski,” he finally introduced himself, glancing at Alan who was smirking at John from the side, obviously amused at John’s discomfort.

“I trust this is not a social call,” Alan spoke up while Harry took a few steps back, obviously willing to wait until the other two finished dealing with whatever had the Sheriff coming to the clinic so early in the morning.

“Is it alright…”

“I believe Stiles already told you who Harry is, so yes,” Alan interrupted John who let go of a slow breath, glancing at Harry who seemed to be looking at John with faint amusement tilting thin lips, “Harry can be made aware of anything since he will be living here, and his expertise will most certainly come useful in whatever we will be dealing with from now on.”

John took a deep breath and let it out through his nose. “I didn’t talk with Stiles and Scott about this yet. I wanted to confirm it with you first,” he said and Alan frowned, glancing at Harry, seeing that the wizard was listening with apt attention.

“Maybe we should move this somewhere more comfortable,” Harry suggested, and John gaped when Harry lightly hit the end of the walking stick against the ground making a warm wave of wind pass around the room turning the sign on the door around telling that the clinic was closed.

Alan hardly managed to suppress a shiver at the feel of Harry’s potent magic caressing his body, and concentrated instead on John. “We should go to my living room,” he said and Harry nodded, John following close behind.

Once they were seated in Alan’s living room, still glancing at Harry in curiosity, John placed a file he brought with himself on the tea-table immediately attracting Deaton’s attention.

“This has been going on for a few weeks now,” John started, shifting in the armchair and fisting his hands on his knees while Deaton leafed through the file, a frown settling on his features. “The first body was found three weeks ago 5 miles west in the forest. We still didn’t confirm the cause of death. There were no signs of a heart attack or a stroke, the victim being only 20 years old. When the second victim showed up, we thought we had a pattern at least with both of them being brown haired females in their early twenties, but the third victim with the same symptoms was a blond male in his mid thirties and the fourth victim was a black haired woman in her late twenties. The only thing that connects them is that they were all found as far out of the city as possible, which makes it practically impossible for us to find witnesses. We talked with their families and friends and they said that there was no strange behavior and no deviations in their routines. All of them said that the victims behaved normally until the night of their deaths when they disappeared without a trace. We tried to see if all four of them went out to the same club, but that was a dead end too. It appears as though we have a serial killer who is smart enough as not to leave traces and look for their victims in different places every time.”

“But serial killers always have a pattern,” Harry spoke up from where he was sitting in another armchair with his hands wrapped around the head of his walking stick which was firmly pressed into the ground between Harry’s slightly parted legs. “The victims all have the same symptoms?” he directed the question at Alan who was still frowning at the file in his hands.

“They were all cold and rigor mortis already took place even though the time of death was set too early for it to take hold,” Alan murmured, “All four of them had a peaceful expression which indicates that they weren’t tortured before they died. There were no wounds or bruises on their bodies.” Alan looked at Harry and found the wizard frowning thoughtfully.

“If it weren’t for their peaceful expressions I would say that they were killed by the Avada Kedavra curse, dying on spot, but Avada Kedavra doesn’t cause immediate rigor mortis, and the body would still bruise on the place where it fell since the blood is still circulating through the body. Were there any trails around the bodies?” Harry asked the Sheriff and the older man managed to stop himself before he shook his head, reminding himself that he needed to talk.

“No,” he said, “we found no footsteps around the victims and those who had seen them before their deaths said that they hadn’t seen them leaving with anyone.”

“I think it’s safe to say that we’re dealing with something supernatural,” Deaton concluded, closing the file and handing it to John who took it and placed it in his lap, glancing from Alan to Harry as though he was hoping he could find the answer to this mystery written on their faces.

“I cannot do anything until Scott and I sign the contract, and even then I won’t be able to interfere unless asked, but this is most certainly something that will have to be handled by us and not the local authorities,” Harry spoke up.

“Why?” John asked with a confused frown and Harry answered with a small understanding smile.

“I am a wizard inhabiting a territory claimed by a Pack of werewolves. It is dictated by the rules of the Covenant that I cannot take action until the Alpha of the Pack approves my stay here and asks for my help. While Scott gave his verbal approval, nothing will be official until we have a contract which would state that I can help if asked. Until then I can only give advice to those able to do something,” Harry explained and Alan nodded in confirmation when John looked at him.

“I will draw up a contract as soon as possible,” the Emissary said. “Until then, what do you suggest we do?” Alan asked Harry who let go of a grave sigh.

“I would suggest that you set up a police hour. No one should be out after dark and if they are they should move in a group of four or more. Make it so that the risk of anyone being taken is as small as possible. Make this public, but try to avoid panic,” Harry said, his attention focused on John who nodded in agreement.

“Should I tell anything to Stiles and Scott?” he asked and Alan looked at Harry.

“The Pack needs to be made aware of this,” Harry said and Alan hummed.

“I will try to find a copy of the older contracts the Hale Pack had with other people. I’m sure I have them somewhere,” Harry nodded with a small smile while Alan looked at John, “Tell Stiles what you know for now, and I will summon them all here tomorrow for a meeting. I would like it if you and Mellissa joined us as well.”

“It won’t be a problem,” John agreed and Alan offered a small smile before looking at Harry.

“Scott will certainly ask for your help and since I hope to have the contract drawn quickly we will be able to go through the clauses with the whole Pack present. Hopefully, by the day after tomorrow, everything will be cleared out and we will be able to handle this without anyone else dying,” Alan said and Harry nodded.

“Will you need my help in looking for the old contracts?” Harry asked.

“Sadly, they were all warded against anyone but Emissaries and Alphas touching them,” Alan answered and Harry stood up with a sigh.

“Then I will ask for leave,” he said, making both Alan and John frown but for different reasons entirely. “I need to find a real-estate agency to try looking for a place to stay.”

“There is no need to hurry with that,” Alan spoke up a bit too quickly for his tastes, proven to him by John’s confused frown and a sad smile which tilted Harry’s lips before the wizard could hide it.

“I do not wish to inconvenience you for too long, Alan. I know how much you like your privacy. Please, if you would excuse me…”

“Harry-“

“Alan!” The wizard snipped harshly, stopping in front of the doorway and only glancing at the Emissary over his left shoulder, “I will see you later,” with that said he left Alan and John alone.

“Deaton?” John spoke warily as the Emissary took a seat in the couch, placed his elbows on his knees and hid his face in his hands.

John swallowed and brushed his hands through short pepper tresses, entirely too uncomfortable and yet unable to leave his friend as he was.

“Care to explain why there’s enough tension between the two of you to sink the Titanic?” he spoke in a drawl and Alan raised his head, looking at John with a lopsided smile and eyes full of sorrow and guilt.

“I apologize, John,” Alan spoke gravely. “I don’t want to burden you with my problems.”

John sighed and walked over to take a seat to Alan’s right, clapping the Druid’s back in a small show of comfort, “We’re friends, Alan. Friends _burden_ one another with much more than problems.”

Alan chuckled and leaned back against the backrest while John rested his elbows on his knees leaning forward even though he kept his eyes on Alan who stared at the ceiling instead.

“Harry and I,” Alan hesitated, looking for the right words, “we have a history.”

John snorted and rolled his eyes, “I could see that myself,” he muttered and Alan chuckled wearily.

“The first time I met Harry we were 18 years old and he…” Alan sighed and closed his eyes as though he was remembering. “He was broken.”

John frowned, waiting for Alan to continue, knowing that his good friend was not a man who easily spoke of his past.

“He arrived to Beacon Hills all but drained of his magic with more injuries to his weak, underfed body than I could count. He ran away from home, from England, because he couldn’t handle the weight of his responsibilities. He ran into Talia and my father on pure accident and they decided to take him under their wing to help him heal and stand on his own two feet. He stayed in Beacon Hills for 7 months, and he would have certainly stayed longer if…”

“If?” John pushed when Alan stopped talking, obviously hesitant about sharing what happened.

“If I didn’t chase him away,” Alan finished and John frowned in confusion. “A month after he arrived here I came back from my last year of high school and we met. I was supposed to start taking my father’s place as the Emissary of the Hale Pack, but seeing as my father was concentrating on healing Harry, everything was going a lot slower than it usually goes, and I had the chance to spend a lot more time with Harry than I usually would with anyone.”

“I remember,” John chuckled and shook his head, sharing an amused smile with Alan, “You never had any real friends in grade school and it wasn’t a surprise when you left to a private high school. I never _could_ figure out why you kept yourself away from everyone. It all became clear when I learned about the supernatural.” Deaton nodded at John’s words and took a deep breath.

“As I have gotten to know Harry, I…” he hesitated again and John frowned. “I guess it was inevitable for me to fall in love with him.” The Sheriff choked up and Alan shot him an amused smile, even though his eyes were full of sadness and self-hate. “Young and stupid as I was, I allowed myself to get close to Harry, even though a part of me insisted that there would be nothing between us after I took my father’s place. In my adolescent foolishness, self-importance and pride, I hurt him. It took 6 months to heal Harry. During those 6 months he and I fell in love and started a relationship. After Harry was healed my father concentrated on finishing his business so that I could take his place, and I decided that I should end my relationship with Harry so that I could concentrate on becoming an Emissary.”

“What?” John whispered in shock and Alan closed his eyes, not wanting to see the shock and horror in John’s penetrating gaze.

“Harry gave his all to me. He told me of his past and everything he lost and lived through. He shared the truth of his heritage with me and told me of the responsibilities that he escaped by coming to Beacon Hills. In my pride I used it all against him. Even though my father and Talia told me that there was nothing stopping me from being with Harry, from living a normal life with him while being an Emissary to the Hale Pack, I refused to listen. The last night I spent with Harry, I told him that he had to leave. I told him that I couldn’t be with someone who ran from their duties, because I thought that duty should come before anything. He begged me to change my mind. He promised that he would find a way to handle everything from Beacon Hills if only I agreed to be with him,” a sad smile tilted Alan’s lips and he bowed his head in shame. “I rejected him. I chased him away because I was a coward, unable to admit to myself that there was something beyond duty and responsibilities. Harry was gone the other day, and all I was left with were regrets and guilt.”

Heavy silence settled between them and Alan rested his head back on the backrest, completely resigned to his fate.

“Alan…”

“I chased him away, John,” Alan whispered, “and I am still paying the price. He’s here and yet I cannot face him with my feelings. I never stopped loving him. I never stopped worrying about him. When I realized what I did, it almost destroyed me. When I realized what I lost…” He swallowed and squeezed his eyes tightly shut, “I lost a part of myself, John. And now he’s here and I’m still the same coward I was back then. I don’t deserve him, John. I don’t deserve his love or his attention. I don’t deserve his forgiveness.”

“That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t ask for it,” John spoke up after a few minutes of silence and Alan looked at him, finding John staring at something only he could see. “He’s alive and well, and he’s here. If you’ve ever truly loved him, if he every truly loved you, then now that both of you are mature enough, you should sit down and talk. If he still loves you he will understand and maybe the two of you could work something out, even if it will only be some sort of friendship,” he looked at Alan and offered a small smile. “You’re a good man, Alan, but even I have to admit that you used to be an idiot. You’re not anymore. You’ve learned your lesson. Prove it to him. You don’t deserve to live in guilt.”

Alan swallowed difficultly and slowly nodded at John’s words, “But what if I don’t know what to say? Where to start?”

John chuckled and clapped Alan’s right thigh, “You _always_ know what to say,” he drawled dryly and Alan laughed tiredly. “I need to go back to the station,” John said as he stood up and Alan followed suit.

To the Emissary’s surprise, the Sheriff turned around and pulled him into a loose hug, patting Alan’s back comfortingly, “Don’t let him slip through your fingers, Alan. If he’s half the man I think he is for winning your affections, don’t let him go.”

Alan returned the hug tightly and nodded once they parted, and John left with a reassuring smile aimed in Alan’s direction.

Once he was alone, Alan sighed and rubbed his face with his hands.

_If only it were that easy, John. If only it were that easy._

**cut**

_And this kind of pain, only time takes away,_   
_that’s why it’s harder to let you go._   
_Nothing I can do without thinking of you._   
_That’s why it’s harder to let you go._

**cut**

Alan hadn’t seen Harry during the remaining of that day, and the wizard was gone before Alan had gotten up to have breakfast and open the clinic the day after.

While the Emissary’s heart was heavy and his soul weighed down by guilt and the need to speak to the wizard, he concentrated instead on finding a copy of the old contracts so that they could handle whatever was currently plaguing Beacon Hills.

Having found what he was looking for, Deaton set out to draw up a new contract which would benefit both Harry and the Pack while making sure no one could take advantage of the other. While he knew that neither Scott nor Harry had such tendencies, it was better to put it all on paper.

And even though he did his best to concentrate on his work, Alan couldn’t stop his thoughts from straying to the blind wizard.

He could only hope that Harry would be willing to talk to him after the meeting with the Pack was done.

He could only hope.

**cut**

“Lord - Harry!” Scott called out, correcting himself quickly and wincing when several heads turned in his direction as he ran down the street towards Harry whom he had just seen coming out of the real-estate agency carrying a folder in left hand and his trusty walking stick in right.

“Scott,” Harry nodded at him with an amused grin gracing handsome features, “I hadn’t expected to meet you here.” Scott laughed lightly as he walked with Harry down the street towards a park across the road.

“Me neither. I thought you’d be at Deaton’s,” the tight frown which Harry tried to hide didn’t escape Scott’s eyes, and the young Alpha sighed heavily. “Do you have some time to talk?”

“Of course,” Harry nodded and they walked in silence until Scott located a bench a little ways away from people walking around the Park. They took seats in the shade and Harry placed the file on the bench to his left with his stick lying over it before crossing long, lean legs, resting clasped hands calmly in his lap and turning his head to Scott offering full attention, “What did you want to talk about?”

Scott took a deep breath and entwined his fingers between his knees, trying to formulate a sentence in his mind, “We couldn’t help but notice that there is some history between you and Deaton.”

Scott felt Harry tensing up and glanced at the blind Wizard, finding Harry with head bowed and thin lips pressed into a tight line.

“I’m sorry if I’m being intrusive, but Deaton is my good friend and my mentor, and you seem like a good guy. I don’t want either one of you to feel pressured into anything,” Scott said quickly and Harry laughed lightly, shaking his head.

“You are a good young man, Scott,” he spoke with a sigh, “and a good Alpha to your Pack. I can see that you are young and that you have a lot to learn, but you have a good heart. I know that it won’t lead you astray.” Scott blushed a bit although his lips tilted into a smile. “And you are right,” Harry murmured gravely, “There is - There is a _lot_ of history between Alan and me, and I don’t think anyone knows of it now, since both Alan’s father and Talia are gone, and I have never spoken of what happened during my stay here in Beacon Hills to anyone back in Britain.”

“You don’t have to…”

“Maybe I do,” Harry interrupted Scott and tilted his head back as though he was looking at the bright blue sky. “Maybe it’s time I talked to someone about it, because apparently I cannot think of what I should do by myself.”

Scott waited patiently for Harry to continue speaking, taking in the wizard’s slight form. If Scott didn’t know better he would say that Harry was weak. While his tight black clothes revealed a well shaped body, no one would assume that Harry was a seasoned warrior due to his slight form and elegant physic. Thin fingers looked more like they were meant to play various instruments than wield weapons of any sort, and delicate shoulders looked as though they couldn’t handle the weight of a rock, let alone the weight of the whole world.

And yet Harry was a Savior, a Hero. He was a warrior through and through, and Scott found himself respecting the older man even though they’ve practically only met.

“Alan and I,” Harry started and hesitated, “we’ve - we’ve had an _affair_ \- if one can call it that - when I was last here. It didn’t take long for us to fall in love, and…” he sighed and closed his eyes, head tilting to the side as though he was listening to something, “and I guess I had hoped that I had finally found a place for myself far away from my duties, from my titles and responsibilities.” Scott leaned a bit closer, listening intently to every word which rolled off of Harry’s lips. “I do believe that I was wrong,” the self-depreciating smile which graced Harry’s lips made something in Scott’s chest clench. “I knew that Alan held his duties in high regard since it was always a subject of discord between him and me, but I had thought that we would get over it once Alan took his father’s place as the Emissary of the Hale Pack. The night before he was to assume his place he and I had a fight, and - and I ran away.”

Scott frowned when Harry’s voice broke, and he was about to stop the wizard from speaking any further, but it appeared as though Harry was intent on getting the story off of his chest, obviously hoping it would alleviate some of the burden he carried on his heart.

“In a way Alan opened my eyes. I was a coward for running away. I had a whole world depending on me, and I was too frightened, too tired of everything to accept my duty. Alan told me that he could never be with someone who avoided their responsibilities like I did, and I - I ran again. I ran away from him, from his accusations and his anger. I came as far as New York when I realized that he was right. I realized that I had to go back and make everything right, that I wouldn’t know peace until I fulfilled my duty to the Wizarding World, to my friends, my family and all those who died to make this world a better place for future generations,” he chuckled morosely and shook his head. “I have a godson, you know?” Scott frowned when Harry opened his blind eyes and bowed his head as though looking at his tightly clasped hands. “I even abandoned him in my search for peace.” Harry’s eyes filled with tears and he closed those blind orbs to hide them, “He was too young to remember, and today Teddy is one of the best students of his generation. Our relationship is strong, and I love him as I would love my own son. His grandmother died two years ago and I am his only living guardian. When I think of that, I am glad that Alan opened my eyes to my selfishness. Merlin knows what would have happened to him had I stayed a coward and continued to run.”

“But,” Scott spoke up and Harry opened his eyes, head turning towards Scott. “Why should you feel responsible for a world that gave you nothing?” Harry’s eyebrows met in a confused frown. “You weren’t the one responsible for the mistakes the wizards made. Who made you responsible for the future of the Wizarding World? Who said that you had to fight on two fronts to fix a world I don’t think was willing to fix itself. From what you’ve told us, the reformation wasn’t an easy one, so that means that the people were constantly fighting you. Like Stiles said, I would have given up years ago. You could have taken your godson and made a life for the two of you far from the people who didn’t want to accept the necessary changes.”

Harry chuckled and shook his head, “And what about _you_ , Scott? I sincerely doubt that you wanted to become an Alpha at only 17 years of age.” Scott opened his mouth to answer but found no words to say, making Harry smile and nod, “Things are not as simple as we wish for them to be, young Alpha. Sometimes we need to put aside out own wishes and desires for the greater good, don’t you think?”

Scott looked at the ground with a frown, rolling Harry’s words around in his head, “But Deaton had no right to force you into it,” he murmured. “If he truly loved you, he should have waited until you were ready to return, not force you into going back.”

“He didn’t force me into anything, Scott,” Harry spoke comfortingly and Scott looked at him. “That conversation could have gone differently, that is for sure. I have always known that Alan sought refuge in his duties as much as I sought the same thing in running away from my own fate. I haven’t returned to Beacon Hills just to heal, recuperate and finally find peace. I have returned so that I could talk to him, and prove to him that I grew up, that I…”

“That you could face him as someone worthy of his affection,” Scott finished for Harry, and the wizard nodded with a heavy sigh.

“And yet, meeting him now, I cannot help but think that I am still not good enough for him. He survived the death of his Pack and he is still doing his best to help you, even though he is not your Emissary but only a friend and a mentor. He is even training another to be your Emissary, if I have correctly interpreted your relationship with young Séaghdha.”

Scott chuckled and Harry’s lips tilted up in amusement. “You’re the only one who calls him that, you know?” Scott drawled teasingly and Harry let go of a subdued, small laugh.

“It is a good, strong name,” Harry offered as an explanation and Scott snorted.

“Still difficult to pronounce right,” he grumbled wrinkling his nose, and Harry chuckled. “But, anyway,” Scott looked at Harry, feeling as though the wizard could actually see him with the way his milky eyes were focused on Scott’s face, “if what you and Deaton really shared was love then the two of you should talk. I’ve known Deaton since I was ten, and I don’t remember him ever being with anyone. Now that I think about it, there was always this _sadness_ about him when we’d talk about relationships. He is the closest thing to a father I’ve had since mine bailed on mom and me. I know him better than anyone.” Scott looked in Harry’s eyes and the wizard’s eyebrows rose up when Scott’s heavy, warm hand covered his gloved ones. “You two should talk. I think Deaton loved you then and that he still loves you, if his reaction to your return is anything to go by. If I’ve learned anything from what we lived through in the past years it’s that we shouldn’t let the ones we love go. We should hold them close and never let them go, no matter what.”

Sensing the sadness and truth behind Scott’s words, Harry pulled his right hand from under Scott’s and gently cupped the young Alpha’s cheek raising Scott’s head and making the werewolf look at him, “The people we lose are never really gone, Scott,” he whispered comfortingly, “for as long as we remember them and carry them in our hearts. They are watching over us, always, and the only thing they want is for us to be happy.”

A smile tugged on Scott’s lips, and Harry’s own lips tilted up as though he could see it.

“And you are right,” the wizard lowered his hand and Scott tilted his head to the side in question, “I _do_ love Alan still.”

Scott let go of the breath he was unconsciously holding and straightened in his seat.

“Then you know what you have to do?” he asked and Harry nodded, squaring his shoulders.

“Yes. I know what I have to do.”

**cut**

_Trying not to love you_   
_only goes so far._   
_Trying not to need you_   
_is tearing me apart._   
_Can’t see the silver lining_   
_down here on the floor._   
_And I just keep on trying,_   
_but I don’t know what for._   
_’Cause trying not to love you_   
_only makes me love you more._

**cut**

“… If both sides agree to the terms of this contract, the signatures placed upon this paper shall be binding to both sides, and if either breaks one of the terms the contract shall be proclaimed void and actions in terms of the Covenant shall be taken against the offending side.”

After Alan finished reading the contract he drew up Scott shared glances with his Pack before looking at Harry who was sitting in an armchair with a small thoughtful frown, “Are you alright with this contract?” Scott asked and Harry turned his head in the Alpha’s direction.

“I can find nothing wrong with it,” the wizard said and straightened in his seat, taking the glove off of his right hand before he took his staff in his left. “Do you agree with all the terms?”

Scott glanced at Stiles, before he turned to Mellissa and John, and after receiving nods from everyone he stood up to kneel in front of the tea table where Alan had placed the contract after reading it.

“Who signs it first?” Scott asked while Harry kneeled in front of him with the tea table between them.

“The Alpha,” Harry answered, and everyone tensed up when he took a firm hold of the head of his walking stick, turned it sharply away from himself and pulled, drawing out a thin, long platinum blade before he placed the rest of the stick on the ground.

“That is _so_ cool,” Stiles’ awed words made Harry chuckle as he took the blade into his left hand.

“The contract is signed in blood, and it is forever binding,” he explained, and Scott summoned his claws making a small incision on his right thumb, allowing a drop of blood to fall on one of the thin lines at the bottom of the contract. To everyone’s amazement the paper soaked in the drop of blood, forming into Scott’s full name less than a second later. With a small smile, Harry pricked his right index finger on the tip of the blade before allowing his own blood to drip on the contract.

_Lord Harry James Potter, Head of the Potter, Peverell and Black House, General of the Order of the Phoenix, High Commander of the Unspeakables Force, Order of Merlin First Class, Holder of Three Seats of the Wizengamot, Member of the International Confederation of Wizards, Master-_

Before Scott could read the last title, Harry flicked his right hand and the scroll rolled up, a red string tying around it before a red seal appeared on the string, sealing the contract shut before it flew into Alan’s hand.

“That’s a lot of titles,” Scott commented, looking at Harry who appeared to be sporting a small blush on his otherwise pale cheeks.

“And a lot of burdens,” he answered in a whisper as he returned the dagger back where it belonged and slowly stood up, returning to the armchair with a sigh, “but I think we have other things to worry about.”

“Like what is killing people again,” Stiles muttered and everyone tensed up.

“You have my full cooperation,” Harry said, placed his staff between his legs and crossing his hands on top of it, “but we need more than just a few photos. There is nothing we can go on to try and determine the cause of death, let alone start looking for the murderer.”

“Is there anything we can do?” Mellissa asked, shivering when Harry’s blank stare focused on her. She relaxed a bit when Harry gifted her with a small smile and nodded.

“Is there any way for me to see the bodies?”

“What good would _that_ do?” Isaac asked, earning an elbow into his ribs, courtesy of Lydia.

Before the two could argue though, Harry chuckled and spoke up, “I may be blind, young Isaac, but some things cannot be seen with your normal sight. The victims were obviously killed by something magical, and all magic leaves a permanent trace. Even though there are no visible scars or wounds, the body remembers what happened to it. It remembers what took its life. There are some wizards - although it is a rare gift - that can _see_ those marks. Fortunately - or unfortunately - I am one of them.”

“We can’t do anything today, but I work the afternoon shift tomorrow,” Mellissa said. “John could bring you to the hospital and I could take you to see the body of the last victim.”

Harry nodded, “That would be very helpful. With just a bit of luck, we could know what is causing this by tomorrow night.”

“Well, it sure is useful to have a powerful Wizard here to help,” Stiles commented and Harry laughed, although it wasn’t a merry sound.

“Yes, Séaghdha, having a wizard around sure is helpful,” he answered.

“We should go now,” Scott said and stood up, quickly followed by the rest of his Pack, “we all need rest.”

“Be careful on your way home,” Alan warned as everyone started to trail out of the room with wishes of ‘good night’ and warnings of ‘be careful’.

Once they were alone, Alan turned around to look at Harry, hearing the wizard’s tired sigh.

“Are you alright?” Alan asked, not knowing if his worry was welcome. While John _did_ ease some of his worries, Alan still had no idea where he stood with Harry. Having not seen the wizard at all for almost two days didn’t help the situation, so he decided to thread carefully.

“I had a very long day, Alan,” Harry answered with a strained smile. “I am merely tired.”

“If you wish I could make you a cup of tea. I know it…” He stopped and swallowed over a pile of uncertainty in his throat. “I know it always relaxed you.”

The smile which tilted Harry’s lips was sad and full of memories, and Alan felt as though something was pulling every last bit of hope out of his chest.

“Sit with me, Alan,” Harry requested and Alan could do nothing but obey, taking a seat in an armchair facing Harry. “We have a lot to talk about.”

Alan swallowed and looked at Harry, knowing that the wizard would feel him avoiding his unseeing gaze, “Yes, Harry. We have a lot to talk about,” he swallowed and squared his shoulders, “and if you would allow me to speak my mind first I would be very grateful to you.”

Harry nodded crossing lean legs and placing his stick in his lap, holding on to it as though he thought he would need to protect himself from something, and - seeing it as an unconscious, reflexive move - Alan felt his heart clench and any hope he had left was extinguished.

“First I need to apologize,” he started and forced himself to keep looking at Harry, the frown which marred the wizard’s beautiful face feeling like a knife in Alan’s heart. “In my foolishness and pride I hurt you. I hurt your feelings and I betrayed your trust. I used your insecurities against you when it was me making the greatest mistake in my life. I know that I have no right to ask for your forgiveness. I know that what I did to you is unforgivable. I know that I hurt you, and that I’ve,” his mouth went dry and he tried to wet his lips, fighting to keep his voice steady, but knowing that he would eventually fail. “I was young, selfish and stupid, and I allowed my own insecurities and pride get between me and the best thing that happened in my life. There are no words with which I could express how sorry I am, and how much I wish I could make things right. I can only hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive me someday. I want you to know that I - that I loved you and that - that I still,” his voice broke and he resolve shattered making him fist his hands over his mouth as he rested his elbows on his knees, eyes squeezing tightly shut to stop the tears of guilt and self-loathing from escaping them.

**cut**

_So I sit here divided,_   
_just talking to myself._   
_Was it something that I did?_   
_Was there somebody else?_

**cut**

He knew there was no point continuing. There they were with Harry giving him an opportunity to make at least _something_ right, and Alan was again focusing on himself.

There truly was no reason for Harry to forgive him, let alone a hope that there would be something more than a strained acquaintance between them.

Just as he was about to get up and leave the room, Alan was frozen to his place. Two gentle hands took a hold of his wrists, and Alan opened his eyes to find Harry kneeling in front of him, unseeing eyes staring into tear-filled brown orbs.

“You were right, Alan,” Harry spoke in a voice hardly louder than a whisper. “Even though everything could have been handled differently, you were right.”

**cut**

_When a voice from behind me,_   
_was fighting back tears,_   
_sat right down beside me_   
_and whispered right in my ear:_   
_”Tonight I’m dying to tell you.”_

**cut**

“We were both young, Alan,” Harry murmured as he took Alan’s bigger hands into his and connected their palms flat as though comparing their sizes, “You were hiding your insecurities behind duties and responsibilities, behind your pride as a Druid, and I was running from my name, from my status, and my titles. While you _did_ hurt me by denying me, later I realized…” Harry stopped to take a deep breath before bowing his head, entwining their fingers and resting his forehead on them while Alan watched him completely frozen, “I realized that I would not be able to stay with you. I would not be able to be your partner in any way, because my past would come to haunt me. I would have been separated from you one way or another. I had to go back to make sure that my godson would be alright. I had to return to finish the war that started before I was born and culminated with Voldemort choosing _me_ as his equal. If I hadn’t returned, the war would have followed me here. I can only wish that it all finished earlier so that I could have returned to you faster, but that was beyond my power.”

Alan felt as though something was igniting in his chest. He felt as though he was hyperaware of everything, of every slight tremble which shook Harry’s body, of every breath Harry took, every unspoken word which could be read between the lines of those which were spoken.

“I never stopped loving you, Alan,” Harry whispered as tears trailed down his cheeks, “and I - I had always hoped that one day I would come back and prove to you that I’ve changed. That I no longer run from my responsibilities, that I am worthy of you-…”

Impulsively, and completely ignoring the voice of reason in the back of his head, Alan tore his hands out of Harry’s lax hold, cupped the wizard’s face within them, and pressed his lips against Harry’s in what was merely a touch, and yet it conveyed more than words ever could.

**cut**

_Trying not to love you_   
_only went so far._   
_Trying not to need you_   
_was tearing me apart._

**cut**

“Alan?” Harry whispered brokenly, looking up at Alan with desperation and hope.

“I never stopped loving you, Harry,” Alan pressed out weakly, strength abandoning him completely. “I never stopped loving you, but I didn’t dare to hope-”

“I did,” Harry interrupted him, thin lips tilting into a hopeful smile as fresh tears filled milky green and yet still so beautiful orbs, “I couldn’t help but hope that I would find you waiting for me. Even though I had no right to hope for that, I still - I still did. I had hoped that - that when I returned we could get a fresh start, build everything anew if only - if only you would want me.”

Alan let go of the breath he was holding and bowed his head connecting their foreheads as brown eyes slid closed.

“No matter how much I tried, I couldn’t let go of you, Harry,” Alan admitted, feeling the wizard trembling between Alan’s parted legs, small, elegant, and yet incredibly strong hands firmly holding onto Alan’s forearms.

“Do you think we could try?” Harry whispered. “Do you think we could try again? And this time - this time make it work?”

Alan let go of a breathless laugh and nodded, moving away to look down at the wizard kneeling before him.

“Yes, Harry,” he answered brokenly. “This time we will make it work.”

**cut**

_Now I see the silver lining,_   
_what we’re fighting for._   
_And if we just keep on trying_   
_we could be much more._   
_’Cause trying not to love you_   
_only makes me love you more._

**cut**

John couldn’t help but smile as he led Harry through the hospital, the two of them trailing after Mellissa. There was a lightheartedness around Harry that wasn’t there the first time he had met the wizard, and something told John that Harry and Alan talked last night and resolved at least _some_ of what has been weighing the both of them down.

He knew no relationship was easy, but John could see that both Alan and Harry were willing to try and rekindle the flame that once burned between them and was reduced to nothing but a spark because neither was ready for a relationship back when they first met.

“In here,” Mellissa spoke up as she stopped in front of a door and took a look around to check if anyone was there. Seeing that they were alone, she opened the door and led the two men in, making a beeline into the back of the room with the two following at a more sedate pace.

Mellissa and John looked at Harry when the wizard stopped in his tracks and his right hand darted up to cover his nose and mouth.

“What is it?” John asked as Harry lowered his hand to grab a hold of his walking stick. He was breathing through his mouth taking short, shallow breaths, and without a word the wizard walked past Mellissa over to the body held in the back of the room.

It was quite cold there and Mellissa approached John with her arms wrapped tightly around her waist, the two watching as Harry approached the body of the last victim and leaned his stick against the table, almost reverently unzipping the bag, murmuring something that sounded strangely like a prayer under his breath.

John glanced down at Mellissa, meeting her confused stare at the sight of Harry taking his gloves off. The wizard took a deep breath as he covered the victim’s eyes with his left hand and placed the right on her heart.

The two humans drew closer to one another as something resembling static electricity snapped against their bodies. Harry’s eyes slid closed and time seemed to linger as he stilled. Black tight clothes and the thick braid falling down Harry’s back started to shift in a nonexistent wind, and Mellissa covered her lips with her hand when the temperature seemed to drop and their breaths came out in small white puffs.

“Harry!” John rushed forward when the wizard swayed in his place, moving away from the corpse with a gasp and opening of unseeing eyes as horror morphed Harry’s handsome features into an expression of fear. “Mellissa, I need a glass of water!” John ordered as he led an unresisting Harry over to a chair in the corner of the room as the wizard gasped for air, his walking stick lying forgotten on the ground where it fell with an ignored clutter when Harry pushed himself away from the victim.

John pushed the glass of water into Harry’s trembling hands when Mellissa came back and Harry raised it to his lips taking slow sips as his eyes slid closed, a pained expression marring his face.

“Did it work?” Mellissa asked, not knowing what else to do as she wrung her hands together in front of her stomach.

“Yes,” Harry whispered breathlessly, “and we have a problem.”

John and Mellissa exchanged a glance, fear gripping their hearts.

Harry finished the glass of water and Mellissa took it from him after he offered it to her. “We need to summon the Pack,” Harry murmured. “We have a _big_ problem.”

**cut**

“A _what_?” Stiles’ strained, wavering voice broke the heavy shocked silence which ruled the living room of Alan’s home. Everyone was staring at Harry in utter amazement and fear, but the Lord seemed somehow calm, almost resigned.

“We’re dealing with a powerful vengeful spirit,” Harry spoke, his blind gaze focused on the tea table in front of him, hands wrapped loosely around the walking stick. “Every nation in the world has it mentioned in their folklore under different names and descriptions, but they all have one thing in common, they leave their victims dead on the spot without any physical evidence to show the cause of death. It appears as though they’ve merely fallen asleep, never to wake up,” he stopped to swallow and take a deep breath. “The Vandella cannot be seen unless it wants to be seen, and no one but its intended victim can see it. It will lure the victim away from others, in a place where it won’t be disturbed, and it will drain the victim of their life force leaving them dead on the spot. It explains why rigor mortis took place so early, because when the Vandella is feeding the victim stops breathing which then results in lack of oxygen in blood. Muscles contract and rigor mortis takes place almost immediately upon death.”

“But how does it choose its victims?” Stiles asked, “Most legends about vengeful spirits say that the spirit chooses its victim based on either infidelity, murder or some other crime.”

Harry nodded as he rubbed his eyes with his fingers. “The Vandella is no different,” he answered almost tiredly. “If you talked with the friends of the victims you will no doubt find out that they have at one point been unfaithful to their partners. The Vandella feast on such people because, just like any sin against another person, it leaves a permanent mark on the soul making it sweeter to their tastes.” Harry bowed his head as he lowered his hand and wrapped both tightly around his walking stick, “Nothing tastes better than guilt.”

John and Scott glanced at Alan who was staring at Harry with an unreadable look.

“That doesn’t make this any easier,” Lydia spoke up making everyone divert their attention to her. “There’s no way for us to know who the next victim is. Going around town asking people if they’ve ever cheated on someone won’t get us anywhere, and waiting for the Vandella to choose its next victim is not an option.”

“You’re right,” Harry agreed with her, “except on one point.”

“Which one?” Scott asked and Harry chuckled.

“I think I know who could be the next victim,” he spoke tiredly and turned his head towards Alan who was staring at him with understanding.

“You’ve seen it, haven’t you?” Alan asked.

Harry’s lips tilted into a small smirk as he sighed, “No, I haven’t. It has seen _me_.”

“You mean, you…”

“I have enough guilt on my conscience to last me several lifetimes, Mellissa,” Harry interrupted the nurse. “I’ve fought in two wars. The first cost me my parents, my godfather, and several dear friends, not to mention countless other people who maybe would have survived had something been done in time. The second war was in some ways worse and some ways better, but it was a war never the less. I’ve killed a lot of people to save others, but I’ve killed never the less. Like I said; guilt has the sweetest taste to a spirit feeding off of it.”

“There has to be something we can do!” Kira cried out glancing from Scott to Alan and then to Harry who simply shook his head.

“You cannot fight something you can’t see, Kira,” Harry spoke in what was supposed to be a comforting, reassuring tone, and yet it made everyone shiver because it sounded resigned and sad. “There is no way to protect oneself from a Vandella once they set their eyes on you. They are vulnerable for a mere _second_ and that is that precious moment before they start feeding, but then it is already too late because the victim is already paralyzed and unable to move.”

“But,” Derek spoke up for the first time since they gathered, “you’re the most powerful wizard alive. Surely you can do something!”

Harry’s lips tilted up, head leaning to the side, and something dark passed over his handsome features making a cold shiver run down everyone’s spines.

“Maybe I can, but I can do nothing until it comes for me,” he answered, “and it won’t come until I’m alone.”

“You understand that not one of us will allow you to be alone, right?” Scott stated, obviously voicing everyone’s thoughts, and Harry laughed morosely.

“My dear, young Alpha, sometimes sacrifices must be made for the sake of the greater good,” Harry countered earning a scoff from Alan.

“15 years ago you said that you didn’t care for the greater good,” the Emissary argued, making Harry turn his head in Alan’s direction.

“15 years ago I was tired and afraid, running from my fate,” Harry answered, “I dare say that I grew out of that, didn’t I?”

“That doesn’t mean I will allow you to sacrifice yourself,” Alan spoke in a firm tone, one no one heard before, and the Emissary frowned when Harry chuckled and a dark smirk, one which promised nothing but pain, twisted his lips.

“Alan, Alan, Alan,” he tsked, “who said anything about sacrificing myself?” It felt as though the temperature in the room dropped several degrees as Harry’s milky eyes seemed to glow with innate power and the few strands of raven black hair which escaped the loose braid danced in a nonexistent breeze. “Believe me,” his voice was deeper and underlain with a snake-like hiss, “the Vandella will wish that it never listened to the sweet call of power emanating from this city. Mark my words; it will be gone before the moon is full.”

And for some unexplainable reason, there was not a single person in that room that didn’t believe Harry’s dark promise.

**cut**

“Harry?”

The wizard turned away from the window when Alan spoke his name, and the Emissary found himself forgetting what he wanted to say for a mere moment. Standing by the window, with the almost full moon shining through the glass, Harry looked enchanting.

The light wasn’t turned on in the room. Harry didn’t need it. The only light was the one of the moon, and it covered Harry in an ethereal glow, making what little skin that could be seen shine like white marble. Raven black tresses shone like onyx, and milky white eyes appeared to be looking straight into Alan’s soul. Harry looked like some creature out of fairytales, gracing Alan with his ethereal presence.

“Don’t try to talk me out of this, Alan,” Harry spoke in a deep voice, full of finality, “you know just as well as I do that the Pack cannot handle this, and you would not be fast enough to kill it before it took you.”

Alan was slightly taken aback by Harry’s words, realizing that Harry knew exactly what he was thinking. “Harry,” he was at a loss at what to say, wanting to talk the wizard out of doing this alone, but unable to find the words or the conviction.

“I know that you are full of guilt as well, Alan.” The Emissary was frozen to his place as Harry started to walk towards him in a predatory prowl which Alan had never seen the wizard move with. “I know that it will take time for the both of us to let go of our past mistakes,” Harry stopped right in front of Alan and placed his for once gloveless hands flat on Alan’s broad chest, “but I want you to know - and I will say this as many times as you’ll need to hear it - you weren’t the only one who made a mistake. I was in the wrong too. We were both young, and we were both too damaged and lost to be able to be together.”

“Harry, please,” without him realizing he did so, Alan placed his big, warm hands on Harry’s arms, his hold on the wizard almost bruising in its force as he pulled Harry flat against his body, brown eyes slipping closed as Alan joined their foreheads, “I lost you once. I don’t want to lose you again.”

“Alan, stop,” Harry’s voice while gentle and quiet was also firm and left no room for argument. “We weren’t ready. Neither you nor I were ready,” he tilted his head back to nudge Alan’s nose with his. “You suffered for 15 years bearing the guilt of chasing me away when I was the one who ran away without talking to you. I forgave you shortly after we parted. Please,” he pleaded brokenly, “please, try to forgive yourself. I am alright. I am alive. Everything else is in the past.”

“But I broke you,” Alan pressed out through clenched teeth. “You were already hurt. You had lost _so much_ , and I…” his voice betrayed him and he swallowed audibly, feeling Harry’s hands fist in his shirt as though he would never let Alan go. “I should have found a way to talk to you, to apologize sooner, to tell you that I…”

“I know,” Harry interrupted him, and thin lips brushed against full, dry ones, Harry’s tongue peaking out to lick the seam of Alan’s bottom lip. “I know everything.”

“Harry…”

“Hush,” Harry leaned up and pressed his lips against Alan’s.

No more than a touch of lips, and yet it conveyed all the pain and guilt of their separation.

Some would say that they were moving too fast. Others would perhaps say that there was too much bad blood between them.

But Alan suffered for 15 years feeling guilty for a mistake of his youth, and Harry suffered just as much, if not ever _more_ , fulfilling a duty given to him together with his birthright.

Both knew sorrow.

Both knew pain.

And neither was willing to wait any more than they’ve already waited.

“I love you, Alan Deaton,” Harry murmured against Alan’s lips. “I have loved you 15 years ago, and I love you now more than I did then. For more than a decade I’ve dreamt of coming back to you. The hope of feeling you again was the only thing which made me move forward. Will you deny me? Will you deny _us_?”

Staring in Harry’s unseeing orbs, Alan couldn’t find the words to say. Feeling the powerful wizard trembling against him with suppressed emotions and need, Alan could feel his own body responding in a way it never did to anyone else. He knew that Harry was the only one for him.

Could he let go?

Could he finally let go of the guilt and self-loathing which made him shy away from any sort of human contact other than that of a mentor and a friend? Could he admit to himself that both he and Harry suffered enough and that it was finally time for them to find peace in each other’s arms?

He didn’t need to search far for an answer.

“I won’t,” he breathed out, and the most beautiful smile Alan has ever seen graced Harry’s delicious lips.

“We have all the time in the world, Alan,” Harry whispered. “Nothing will take me from your side again.”

Alan swallowed difficultly, “I wouldn’t let them,” and with that said, he sealed his lips over Harry in a deep, scorching kiss which set ablaze the fire which was nothing but ambers for such a long time.

When Harry melted against him, Alan could do nothing but wrap his strong arms around the other’s thin waist as Harry pulled him closer.

The guilt would never be gone.

The road would be narrow; a crooked line.

But they knew what they wanted. They have learned from their mistakes.

And nothing - not even their past - would get between them again.

“You need to rest,” Alan whispered trying to curb the roaring inferno of need and want which coursed through his veins setting every nerve on fire.

Harry laughed breathlessly and slowly moved away, gentle hands sliding down Alan’s shoulders and arms until they wrapped around strong wrists. “Lay with me,” he murmured as he moved backwards, and Alan followed him like a moth drawn to a flame which promised to burn his very being, set it ablaze like a phoenix on its burning day to be reborn as a new, better person.

As Harry kneeled on the bed Alan followed after him, remembering the first night they spent together, the way Harry’s smaller body trembled under his touch, the way Harry’s lips parted in breathless pleas and soundless screams as Alan adored his body.

As they lied down and Alan pulled Harry into his arms, the Emissary remembered how it felt to hold Harry like this for the first time, the way the smaller body fit against his as though it was seeking protection, a shield to hide him from the world.

As Harry laid his head on Alan’s chest, the Druid squeezed his eyes tightly shut and hugged Harry close to his bigger form finally realizing what he failed to see then.

Harry’s magic recognized Alan as the wizard’s Mate. Harry was his by all rights.

And this time, Alan would allow nothing to part him from the wizard.

Nothing and no one.

**cut**

_I shed my tears; my tears – my consolation;_   
_And I am silent; my murmur is dead,_   
_My soul, sunk in a depression’s shade,_   
_Hides in its depths the bitter exultation._   
_I don’t deplore my passing dream of life --_   
_Vanish in dark, the empty apparition!_   
_I care only for my love’s infliction,_   
_And let me die, but only die in love!_

_\- A. S. Pushkin, ‘The Wish’_

**cut**

Alan woke up and immediately knew that something was wrong. It wasn’t that the bed he woke up in wasn’t his own. It wasn’t that the room he was in was not his bedroom.

It was the fact that he woke up alone, with only the fading beams of moonlight as his companion and the glow of the stars whispering of the horror that would happen.

“Harry!”

**cut**

The moment his phone rang in the middle of the night, Scott knew that something bad had happened. When he saw that it was Deaton calling, he knew that bad had just become worse.

He didn’t need to hear his mentor say it. He didn’t need to hear him beg for the first time since they met. The moment the call had ended, Scott was on his feet pulling on a pair of sweatpants and a hoody, already dialing Stiles’ number.

Within moments he was on the street running as fast as his legs could carry him.

But when he heard a scream which all of them learned to fear, he knew that he didn’t have to call Stiles after the human teen didn’t answer the first call.

They have all heard it, and they all knew what it meant.

Someone would die.

**cut**

Told to make as little noise as possible, the McCall Pack moved through the forest listening for any sound, sniffing for the smallest trail of the tender fragrance of water lilies, white callas and cream.

The forest was ominously quiet, as though every single living thing in it knew that the Pack was on the move searching to save the one whom they hardly knew and yet accepted somewhere in their hearts.

Alan, Mellissa and John were in the back with Lydia and Stiles who had his arms wrapped around the Banshee as she shivered and whimpered listening to the voices only she could hear, hoping they would tell her where to go.

Scott, Isaac, Kira and Derek were in the front, rushing as fast as they could without making a sound.

When Isaac stopped in his tracks and turned on his heel, and Lydia smothered a gasp twisting within Stiles’ hold, they knew their luck has shifted.

Exchanging glances, they changed their route, now not bothering to keep quiet.

Alan’s heart was beating a mile per minute, and he fought with all that he had against the panic rising in his chest. They needed to find Harry. They needed to find him.

Before it was too late.

“Ha-…” the wizard’s name died on Alan’s lips when they found him standing in the middle of a field right in front of the Nemeton with his back turned on them, head tilted back as though he was looking at the sky. His arms hung limply by his sides, walking stick held loosely in his left hand.

Harry appeared to be waiting for something.

Or someone.

No matter how much they wanted to, neither one of them could move. They wanted to call out to the Lord, but they couldn’t. They wanted to run to him, but they were rooted to their spots.

The almost full moon shone down upon Harry, bathing him in an ethereal glow, and if they could think of anything they would imagine that he was merely an apparition, a shadow of the powerful wizard meant to lead them astray.

They held their breaths when Harry slowly turned towards them, blind eyes following something only he could see with an expression of utter calmness and surrender.

“You want to feed?” Harry’s voice was low and firm, strong and unyielding, and everyone held their breaths when they saw something like a shadow flitter around Harry, like air wavering because of incredible heat. A smirk tilted Harry’s lips and he chuckled deeply.

 _“My agony made the willows quiver; I heard the knocking of my heart die loudly down the windless river, I heard the pale skies fall apart,”_ Harry whispered into the wind as the shadow darted beside him, and the Pack was left wondering what was happening.

Had their arrival disturbed the creature?

“I know you are hungry,” Harry’s voice was mocking, and a smirk was tilting his lips. Almost as though he was unaware that he and the Vandella had company, he slowly turned right, his eyes following the shadow which was rippling through the air.

 _“And the shrill stars’ unmeaning laughter, and my voice with the vocal trees weeping. And Hatred followed after shrilling madly down the breeze,”_ the words rolled off of Harry’s lips in a hissing whisper, the shadow moving faster and faster, blurring the air around Harry occasionally. _“In peace from the wild heart of clamour, a flower in moonlight, she was there, was rippling down white ways of glamour quietly laid on wave and air.”_

Alan wanted to scream. His lips were parted, but no sound could pass a pile of _something_ which gathered in his throat. He could only stand rooted to his spot and watch as Harry faced something far beyond anyone’s imagination.

 _“Her passing left no leaf a-quiver. Pale flowers wreathed her white, white brows. Her feet were silence on the river;”_ in that moment the shadow stopped right in front of Harry, towering over him in all its ominous, threatening glory, but the Lord merely tilted his head back with a mocking smirk on his lips. _“And ‘Hush!’ she said, between the boughs.” (4)_

Everyone lost their breaths when the shadow suddenly glowed, and the form of a beautiful woman with long curly red hair, glowing emerald eyes, dressed in a flowing white gown appeared floating over Harry.

The temperature dropped drastically, and even though they could only see Harry’s profile, they knew that his face morphed into a mask of despise and rage.

“How _dare_ you take her form,” he pressed out through clenched teeth, and in the next moment the Vandella screeched and reared back, thin, elegant hands turning into monstrous claws, and beautiful face morphing into a vampire-like visage, sharp teeth glimmering in the moonlight as she launched for an attack.

To everyone’s amazement Harry avoided it almost effortlessly, drawing the platinum dagger from the walking stick, but to the shock of his spectators, Harry didn’t use it as a blade.

“Expecto Patronum!!” He thundered and from the tip of the blade sprung a humongous white light, morphing into a beautiful stag, a mighty wolf, a big dog and a prancing doe, which surrounded the Vandella within seconds.

The vengeful creature screeched and screamed as the four animals circled it, and she fell to her knees scratching at her face, chest and arms making black drops fall on the dry ground.

All the while Harry stood in the back calmly, hardly making a move. His expression was passive and uncaring, and his stance relaxed, and the Pack could do nothing but stare in absolute amazement, hardly able to form a coherent thought.

The moment the screeching stopped, the four animals faded into the moonlight, and Harry started a slow prowl towards the Vandella who was twisting on the ground, pained moans mixing with threatening growls and hisses.

“You chose the wrong town, my dear,” Harry whispered almost comfortingly, and the Vandella looked up at him. Its form started to shift and waver, bringing a pitying smile to Harry’s lips. “How unfortunate for you that I am blind,” he drawled as the Vandella’s form shifted minutely between both men and women, making everyone believe that those were the faces from Harry’s past, people he lost to one war or the other.

As though finally realizing that her victim would not fall to her tricks, starved to the border of insanity, the Vandella’s head snapped in the Pack’s direction, her furious, red eyes immediately focusing on Alan.

She was gone in a flash, and the Pack was too slow, only frantic calls managing to escape their lips as the Vandella appeared in front of Alan, her hands wrapping around the Emissary’s neck as she leaned in for the killing kiss.

But before she could finish her intention, Harry appeared behind her, grabbed a fistful of her hair which turned into slimy black strands, and pulled her head back, pressing the tip of the platinum blade against her throat.

“Go back to Hell where you belong,” Harry pressed out through his teeth. “Avada Kedavra!”

Within seconds it was over, the Vandella turning into dust with a terrifying scream, and silence full of horror and questions settled over the group.

As though some sort of spell was lifted off of them, everyone could suddenly move, and Alan fell to his knees, Harry following a second behind, delicate hands darting up to take a firm hold of Alan’s face as the platinum dagger met the ground with a muffled ‘thud’.

“I’m sorry, Alan. I’m so, so sorry,” Harry whispered. Gone was the terrifying warrior they have seen only moments prior, and now they were looking at a man begging for forgiveness. “She summoned me and I couldn’t resist her call. I wished so much to wake you up, but her call was too strong. Please, please, forgive me,” before Harry could utter another word, Alan raised his hands and pulled Harry flat against his chest, face hiding in Harry’s tussled braid and arms folding around the smaller man as though they would never let him go.

Not knowing what to say and feeling entirely out of place, the Pack took a few steps back to give the two men some space.

“Never do that again,” Alan pressed out as he pulled Harry closer, not caring that his hold was probably bringing Harry pain. “Never do that again.”

Harry wrapped his arms around Alan’s shoulders, burying his face in the Emissary’s neck “I’m here, Alan,” he whispered. “She never would have hurt me. I swear. I was safe. Please, believe me, Alan. Please, I’m sorry.”

Alan moved back and raised his hands, cupping Harry’s face between them, tracing the high cheekbones and sharp chin, and the seams of those thin lips which could spout curses and words of hate, and whisper tender, loving phrases with the innocence of a child.

“How could we see her?” Alan whispered, obviously turning back to what he knew - analyzing and concluding - in a simple need to forget the horror they had seen.

“She fed too much,” Harry blurted out, giving Alan the raw facts that he so needed. “She fed on the guilt of the first four victims and the magic which was released when the Nemeton lost its power. She has grown too powerful and couldn’t keep her form hidden from anyone which is why she hunted at night and used her voice to summon people to her, revealing her form only when they were alone.”

Alan nodded hurriedly, breathing already slower and deeper, fingers stilling in their caresses of Harry’s face as both were assured that the other was alive and well.

Supporting one another, Alan and Harry climbed to their feet, and the Pack couldn’t help but exchange smirks when the Emissary wrapped an arm around Harry’s waist and pulled the wizard close to his bigger form.

“I must apologize for summoning you out. I simply-“

“It’s alright,” Scott was quick to assure his mentor and friend. “None of us could know that our help wouldn’t be needed.” He smirked at Harry, and as though he could actually see it, Harry ducked his head with a blush decorating otherwise pale cheeks.

“If you wish, I could apparate us all into the clinic. The way home is closer to all of you from there than from here,” he offered.

“That would be great,” Mellissa answered for all of them, and even though she tried to sound strong, her voice still wavered with remnants of fear and horror.

“Do we need to do anything?” Stiles asked as everyone moved closer to Harry and Alan, and the Lord chuckled with a shake of his head.

“Usually you would all need to hold hands,” as though he had seen the wrinkled noses of Stiles and Isaac, Harry smirked, “but I’ve always been special.”

With that the platinum dagger flew into his right hand, followed by the stick which Alan caught, and Harry offered him a grateful smile before he raised his hand and circled the dagger in the air.

“Apparate Omnes.”

And in a second they were gone.

**cut**

 

Harry took a deep breath, standing in front of the closed door of Alan’s room. His hands were clenching and unclenching in front of him, as though seeking the comfort of the walking stick, gloveless and trembling. Steeling his stance, Harry raised his hand and knocked, not waiting for Alan to summon him in.

“I hope I’m not disturbing,” he spoke in a quiet voice, closing the door on his way in.

Alan stood from the armchair and looked at Harry who stopped in front of the door, wringing his hands in front of his stomach, reminding Alan of the teen he met such a long time ago. It appeared as though, even though Harry has truly grown up and he was every bit the powerful Lord the world knew, there was still a part of Harry which was insecure and terrified of losing people he cares about, a part which he shpwed to only a rare few.

Alan doubted there were a lot of people that were privy to this side of Harry otherwise the wizard wouldn’t be standing there before him. He would have been swallowed by the ruthless, corrupted world they lived in.

“You could never disturb me, Harry,” Alan spoke almost weakly and Harry let go of the breath he was holding, taking a hesitant step forward.

“I just wanted to see how you were,” he said making Alan chuckle and slowly approach the wizard, shivering when Harry stilled completely when he felt the Emissary approaching him.

A small frown furrowed his brow when Alan stopped right in front of him, taking Harry’s right hand into his left before placing something small into the middle of the wizard’s palm. “I’ve kept this all this time,” Alan murmured as Harry raised his hand up and traced the pendant with the tips of his fingers.

“That is…” his lips tilted up into a smile and Harry raised his head so that Alan could look into his eyes. “Those are the combined crests of my Houses.”

“Yes,” Alan confirmed and closed his hands around Harry’s stopping the wizard from further caressing the three crests merged into on. “I’ve kept it safe for you.”

Harry sighed and moved closer to Alan, taking his hands from the Druid’s to wrap his arms around Alan’s waist, humming contently when the taller man wrapped him into a tender, reassuring hug.

“You need to rest, Harry,” Alan whispered after a few moments they’ve spent in silence, simply taking in the other’s presence.

“I cannot sleep,” Harry answered in a murmur, burying his face in Alan’s neck, making the Emissary feel Harry’s hot breath on the tender skin of his neck. “Dawn will soon come either way and I need to be at the real-estate agency at 8.”

Feeling the tensing of Alan’s body Harry moved away and tilted his head back, as though he could see the expression of suppressed pain on Alan’s handsome face.

“So that’s where you’ve been spending your time,” Alan tried to sound normal, but he knew that he had failed, because his voice came out strained and tight, expressing the feeling of being choked by something heavy in his chest.

“I have been trying to reach a couple that owns a small house in the city. I didn’t want anything big, but I will need at least another room for when Teddy comes to visit during holidays,” Harry answered in an equally tight voice, as though hesitating to do what he knew would be smart, wishing he could listen to his heart which was telling him to stay beside Alan for all eternity.

“There’s enough place here for both of you,” Alan spoke before he could think about it and Harry froze in his place.

Could it be that they were thinking - _feeling_ the same thing?

“Alan…”

“Harry, I…” Alan choked up on the words he wanted to say, and Harry moved closer, placing his right hand on Alan’s broad chest, clutching the pendant in the left, breaths mixing between them as bodies trembled with restrained need. “I don’t want you to go,” he finally pressed out and Harry’s eyes filled with sadness.

“Is it wise?” he asked feeling Alan’s hands taking a firm hold of his waist and pulling him flat against Alan’s stronger body. “Last time we rushed while neither was ready. Should we…”

“Only if you want to,” Alan cut him of, resting his forehead on Harry’s and breathing in the wizard’s amazing, at the same time both calming and arousing scent. “If you so wish we will part and take everything at your pace. If you so wish, we will take this as slow as you want.”

“And what if I don’t?”

Alan swallowed around the raw need and desire which burned in the pit of his stomach. His fingers itched to slip under Harry’s tight shirt to caress the sensitive skin. He still remembered where to touch to make the wizard melt against him. He still remembered where to kiss to make Harry gasp and twitch as passion coursed through his veins and pleasure colored his cheeks with a blush.

“I will do whatever you want me to do, Harry,” he whispered, “and I will never let you go again.”

Harry’s lips tilted up and the lines of that handsome face softened with love. The wizard leaned up to kiss Alan lightly and nuzzle his nose against the Druid’s.

“Go out to dinner with me tomorrow,” Harry asked, making Alan laugh almost lightly, and the Lord grinned, feeling almost weightless. “We will see where the night will take us.”

Alan leaned in for another tender kiss. “As you wish,” he whispered as Harry moved away, the hand in which he held the crest of his Houses pressed against his chest. “Have some rest.”

“You as well,” Harry answered and left the room.

The moment the door closed, Alan had to suppress a shout of cheer, opting instead for a grin such as never stretched his lips.

_Whatever you wish, my Harry._

**cut**

_Now I feel myself surrender each time I see your face._   
_I am captured by your beauty, your unassuming grace._   
_And I feel my heart is turning, falling into place._   
_I can’t fight it, now hear my confession._

**cut**

“Heard you’re not looking for another place after all,” Harry raised his head in the direction from which the familiar voice came, and a beautiful calm smile graced his lips.

“Hello, Scott,” he greeted while the young Alpha took a seat beside him in the shade of the old oak tree under which they sat the first time they talked alone.

It has been a week since the Vandella was dealt with during which Alan and Harry went twice to dinner and several times either for lunch or a simple walk in the park. They had yet to go further than a kiss good morning or good night, and yet neither felt hurried.

The reason behind Harry being alone that sunny afternoon was that Alan had a lot to do in the clinic, and Harry didn’t want to get in his way, no matter how much Alan insisted that Harry’s comforting presence could never bother him.

Instead, Harry decided to take a walk, certain that he would be left in peace for two reasons. One was that in the city of Beacon Hills he was just another man. No one knew who he was or what he did. The second was that his milky eyes made people uncomfortable and rare were those who would approach him without a reason. Feeling grateful for little miracles, Harry decided to spend the day in the park surrounded by nature and soaking in the comforting warmth of the Sun.

“So?” Scott pushed in curious excitement, and Harry laughed lightly - something he only ever did when he was with his godson - and nodded in answer.

“Alan and I decided to start anew,” he answered. “Even though it has been 15 years and our parting was hard for the both of us, we are aware of our past mistakes and are willing to put it all to rest. I love him, and I know that he loves me as well. Everything else is part of life and relationships.”

Scott nodded in agreement and smiled. “I’m glad to hear that. While we’ve only just met, all of us can say that you’re a good guy, Harry, and we all want Deaton to be happy.”

“I will do my best,” Harry said and Scott chuckled, noticing a letter in Harry’s hands.

“If I may ask…”

“My godson wrote to me,” Harry interrupted him, and before Scott could ask how Harry managed to read when he was blind - he supposed magic somehow made it possible - Harry continued speaking, “I’ve told him about Alan, an _edited_ version, of course,” Scott snickered and Harry smirked. “For a 15 year old, Teddy is quite protective of me. Has been ever since I lost my sight.”

“I can guess why,” Scott drawled dryly and Harry laughed.

“It doesn’t help that he is a werewolf, and thinks of me as his Pack,” he informed Scott, making the Alpha perk up a bit.

“Your godson is a werewolf?” he asked, leaning closer to Harry in interest.

“He was born a werewolf, yes,” the wizard confirmed, “one of the reasons why I fought so hard to change the laws concerning creatures in the Wizarding World. I wanted to make sure that he would be as safe as possible.”

“What did he say?” Scott asked, referring to the letter.

Harry sighed, smiled and bowed his head a bit, “He said that he is very happy for me and that he would be paying us a visit. He wants to meet Alan and the McCall Pack, since he never was in the company of other werewolves. I told him about Derek, and he is very excited about meeting another born one.”

“Derek will be happy to meet him,” Scott said and then added, “we’ll _all_ be happy to meet him.”

Harry chuckled and gifted Scott with an expression of gratefulness, “Thank you, Scott. Your acceptance means a lot to me.”

“Think nothing of it,” Scott said and placed his right hand on Harry’s back in a comforting touch. “Beacon Hills is now your home too.”

Harry tilted his head to the side with a beautiful, open smile.

“Yes,” he said, “this is now my home.”

**cut**

Alan raised an eyebrow as he looked at Harry who seemed to be vibrating with excitement, although to someone else the Lord would look cold with how he sat in his armchair straight as a board with the walking stick lying over his lap, hands clasped tightly around the middle.

“Calm down,” Alan said as he placed Harry’s cup of tea on the tea table and took a seat on it, facing Harry. With all the tenderness in the world he made Harry let go of the walking stick and clasped the wizard’s hands between his bigger, warmer ones after he laid the stick beside himself on the table. “Your godson loves you, and he will be happy if your are happy. You are both Wizards, so distance means little to you since you can go and see him whenever you want and he can come visit as many times as he’d like, whenever he so wishes,” he repeated the words Harry told to himself a hundred times since Teddy announced that he would be coming to see him, but the Lord was still worried that his godson would mind the distance between them.

Before he could express his thoughts though, a loud pop made both him and Alan jump to their feet and let go of one another, and in the nick of time, because not a second later Harry had an armful of an excited 15 year old chatting his ear off.

“It’s so good to see you!” Teddy cried out, almost bouncing within Harry’s loving embrace, and Alan smiled when all the tension seemed to melt off of Harry’s slender body.

“I am happy to see you too, Teddy,” he spoke warmly and the buoyant teen took a step back, grinning at his godfather with all the brightness of a thousand suns. “I would like you to meet Alan Deaton.”

The teen turned towards Alan immediately offering his hand to the Emissary who accepted it without a thought. Alan’s eyebrows met the line of his hair when he saw the striking resemblance between Harry and Teddy, and as though he knew what was going through Alan’s mind, Harry smirked and placed his right hand on Teddy’s left shoulder.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Deaton,” Teddy grinned, “I’m Teddy Lupin-Potter.”

“Teddy here is a Metamorphomagus,” Harry supplied an explanation and Teddy’s grin brightened eyes changing into a deep brown to copy Alan’s and hair growing shorter and turning into a vibrant green, “He can change his appearance at will, and his favorite quirk is to make himself look as similar to me as possible.” Although Harry’s voice was laced with amusement, Alan could hear the deep love and happiness the Lord felt in the tone of Harry’s voice.

“I’m your son in all but blood, papa!” Teddy exclaimed almost exasperatedly, as though they’ve talked about this a thousand times before, “Dad was a werewolf and mom was a metamorphomagus, and _you_ raised me. You’re my papa and I’ll look like you as much as I can.”

Harry’s eyes filled with love, lips tilting into a tender smile, and Alan felt his heart fill with warmth and happiness for Harry, because it meant a lot to the Druid that Harry had someone in his life who loved him so unconditionally.

“I will leave the two of you to talk,” he excused himself, earning a bright smile from Teddy and a confused frown from Harry. “A new shipment for the clinic arrived this morning and I have to restock the supply room. Are we still on for dinner tonight?”

“I’ve made reservations for the three of us. The Pack will be coming for a meeting tomorrow. I want to introduce Teddy to them,” Harry answered and Alan nodded.

“Please, excuse me now. Harry, you can find your way around the kitchen. Feel free to enjoy your time together.”

“Thank you!” Teddy called out after Alan as the Druid left him and Harry alone, and not a second later he turned to face his godfather, “Papa, you sure know how to pick ‘em.”

Harry laughed merrily at Teddy’s words, making the teen grin brightly. Not 15 minutes has passed since he arrived to see Harry, and he already noted that the older wizard looked much better. A great load seemed to have been lifted off of Harry’s shoulders. His expressions were more open and he stood proud, although not in the same way as when he was facing the Wizarding World.

Teddy could see that Beacon Hills was doing his papa good, and if he wasn’t certain before that Harry was better off leaving Britain, now he knew for sure. His papa was finally living, and that brought nothing but joy to the young werewolf.

“You look good, papa,” he commented warmly and Harry sighed, leading Teddy over to the couch so both of them could take a seat.

“I feel good, Teddy,” Harry confirmed, and Teddy smiled lovingly, wrapping his arms around Harry in a tight embrace.

“I can see that. I can feel the magic in this place, and I understand what you meant when you told me about it, although it’s a bit wilder than I’d imagined,” he said as they parted, and Harry summoned his cup of tea into his hands while conjuring another for Teddy, just the way he liked it, lukewarm mint tea with just a bit of honey and lemon.

“That is because the Nemeton was destroyed and the power now runs free. It surprised me as well when I first arrived. I have gotten used to it by now,” Harry spoke, taking a sip of his warm drink.

“And the fact that you’re living with Mr. Deaton and not in your own place?” Teddy drawled teasingly, enjoying the light blush which tinged Harry’s cheeks.

“Alan and I…” he hesitated, looking for the right words. “We’ve decided to continue where we left off. We were apart for 15 years and neither he nor I sought another in the meantime. I love him, Teddy, despite everything that happened. He is good to me.”

“I can see that,” Teddy spoke quietly, placing his right hand on Harry’s left forearm. “You look great, papa. You look happier than I’ve ever seen you. I’m glad you left the Wizarding World. Aunt Hermione sends her love and Uncle Ron said to greet you as well. Uncle Neville and Aunt Luna said that they would be stopping by to visit in a few weeks. They’re traveling to Japan to do some research on magical plants they have there, so they’ll stop here to see you.”

“I’m glad to heart that everyone’s alright,” Harry said, feeling bad for not remembering to write to his friends.

“Don’t,” Teddy warned him as though he could read Harry’s thoughts. “They all understand that you need time away from everything, even - in a way - from them. They understand that they are all a constant reminded of everything you’ve lived through, and they don’t resent the distance you’ve put between them and yourself. They know that you will contact them once you’re ready.”

Harry let go of a sigh of relief and nodded, “Thank you, Teddy.”

“Not a problem, pops!” Teddy grinned and Harry laughed.

“So, tell me,” Harry grinned at Teddy, making the teen’s heart dance in his chest with happiness at seeing his godfather so lighthearted, “is Severus’ portrait still demanding to be moved into the potions classroom? And how is dear Minerva? Last I heard is that the first-years are still giving her trouble…”

**cut**

The three weeks Teddy spent with Harry, Alan and the Pack passed like a whirlwind of excitement, with none being the wiser of how time flied. Harry and Teddy spent almost every waking moment together, often joined by Alan during lunchtime or in the evenings. The biggest surprise to everyone though was when Isaac took interest in the younger teen, the two of them failing to conceal the interest they had for one another since the first moment they met.

The two wizards often spent time with the Pack giving Teddy a chance to hang out with other werewolves, having gone running in the preserve several times with Scott, Isaac and Derek while Harry, Stiles and Lydia waited for them in a small meadow in the middle of the forest where the werewolves would rest from their run while they talked and exchanged stories.

Teddy has taken to Alan well, although there were three days of silence between them since Alan felt it was necessary for the young teen to know the whole story of Alan’s and Harry’s past relationship.

After taking three days to think, Teddy approached Alan and asked to talk to him.

“In a way I understand your standing, and having talked with papa I know his side of the story as well,” he told Alan, neither aware that Harry was listening, hidden behind the closed door. “I can see that you’re a good man and that you love my papa, but take note of this. You hurt him again and no amount of magic and protection will save your from me. I’m a werewolf and a wizard, and a good one at that. Hurt my papa, and there won’t be enough left of you to bury.”

After that things went back to a semblance of normalcy. Teddy even hugged Alan and welcomed him into the family before he left for Britain. After three weeks, it wasn’t that big of a surprise when the happy teen kissed Isaac good bye and told him that they would see one another for the Christmas holidays just before his portkey activated, leavin Isaac blushing furiously and stuttering apologies and promises that he would never hurt Teddy to Harry, who simply laughed and clapped Isaac’s back, assuring him that he had nothing against Isaac and Teddy dating.

“Although,” the smirk which covered Harry’s lips made Isaac tense up and shiver, “what I did to the Vandella will seem like child’s play compared to what I’ll do to you if you intentionally hurt him.”

Even though Harry’s threat was shorter, somehow it carried much more weight in comparison to Teddy’s.

And now, finally, after three weeks, Harry and Alan were alone again, and somehow the air between them was heavy with something neither could name.

Alan found Harry standing in front of the window in the living room of their apartment after having closed the clinic for the day. The slender form of the wizard was outlined by the light of the sickle moon and the stars shining from the cloudless sky as he stood there with arms wrapped around a thin waist and head tilted back as though he was soaking in the glow of the moon and the starts.

Alan approached Harry and placed his hands on Harry’s arms, flattening his body with the wizard’s as he bowed his head to bury his nose in the thick braid of raven black tresses. A sigh left Harry’s lips and he leaned back into Alan’s strong form, trembling with the warmth which seeped into his body at the contact.

“Alone at last,” Harry whispered, tilting his head to the side to accept a light kiss to the cheek before Alan wrapped his strong arms around Harry and rested his chin against Harry’s head.

“Did Teddy tell you-“

“I heard it all,” Harry interrupted him with a chuckle. “I was curious why the two of you suddenly stopped talking. I told him my side of the story, and I think that made him accept it all. He _is_ young, Alan. Although not much, he _is_ younger than we were then, and he thankfully didn’t live through the same horrors we’ve faced. He will come to grips with everything with time.”

“I know,” Alan said. “I just wanted his informed approval.”

Harry hummed and turned within Alan’s hold, leaning up to kiss the Druid, elegant hands coming to rest on Alan’s broad chest before sliding up to lightly wrap around Alan’s neck. Harry caressed the edges of Alan’s jaw with his thumbs, deepening the kiss, sighing when the Emissary placed his hands on Harry’s waist and pulled him flat against his strong body.

“Have you closed for the day?” Harry murmured against Alan’s lips, mouthing against them and teasing the Druid with small licks and nips.

“We’re under lock, key and _several_ alarms,” Alan spoke in a strained voice, breathless and deep, and Harry trembled against him.

“Good,” he answered and slid his hands down Alan’s arms, wrapping them around the other’s wrists before tugging him along out of the living room and down the hallway.

They didn’t bother to close the door to the bedroom, reaching the bed without exchanging a word, and just before Harry could take a seat, Alan tugged on his arms, telling him wordlessly to remain standing as he took a seat and pulled Harry to stand between his parted legs.

Waiting to see what Alan would do, Harry placed his hands on Alan’s strong shoulders while the Emissary placed his on Harry’s slightly rounded hips, resting his forehead on Harry’s chest.

Harry raised his hands and placed them on Alan’s shaved head, blunt nails scraping against the Druid’s scalp and sending a shiver down his body.

“You never _did_ like growing your hair out,” Harry commented in a murmur and Alan chuckled, giving a squeeze to Harry’s hips.

“It’s practical,” he said the same thing he told Harry the first time the wizard commented on him shaving his head.

“And safe,” Harry added, knowing that a lot of magic Druids used relied on possessing something of the one you wished to either bless or curse. Alan hummed and tilted his head back to look up at the wizard.

The silence which ruled over them was full of words they wanted to say, their hearts reaching to the other and their love wrapping around them.

Alan slid his hands down to Harry’s thighs when the wizard straddled his lap and loving hands cupped Alan’s face, thumbs tracing cheekbones almost reverently. The Emissary stared at the wizard’s face while Harry traced his features with the tips of his fingers as though Harry was trying to memorize ever line of Alan’s face, creating a picture in his mind.

Without a word, Harry leaned in a sealed his lips over Alan’s in a kiss deeper than any they shared before. Slipping his hands up Harry’s thighs, Alan took a firm hold of those slim hips and slowly turned them over, settling between Harry’s invitingly parted legs.

**cut**

_Like the sound of silence calling,_   
_I hear your voice and suddenly I’m falling,_   
_lost in a dream…_

**cut**

Harry’s hands fell to rest on either side of his head as Alan kissed down the pointed chin and the column of Harry’s neck, his warm hands slipping under Harry’s tight turtleneck to tease the sensitive skin above the waistband of his trousers with a butterfly touch.

“Alan…” Harry breathed out, eyes slipping closed, and his lover pushed his shirt up, soft, full lips placing a loving kiss just over the waistband, as dexterous hands slid up Harry’s sides in a firm caress.

Harry sat up a bit to take the shirt off, settling back on the bed immediately as Alan kissed up his chest, those hands, which were once without calluses and touched him almost fearfully, familiarizing themselves with his body all over again, this time touching with certainty, the scrappiness of Alan’s touch, the proof of hard work, only enlarging the need which was igniting in Harry’s body.

Breath hitching in his throat, Harry twitched up when Alan took one nipple into his mouth, teasing the dusky numb with licks and nips, soothing with kisses and hardening with slow sucks as his big warm hands trailed Harry’s sides, thumbs teasing the tender skin stretched over protruding hip-bones.

Harry dug his fingers in the strong muscles of Alan’s back through the thin t-shirt as the Emissary teased the other dusky nipple into hardness, moving down to trace every old and new scar on Harry’s body with lips and tongue, leaving Harry unable to do much more than arch towards him and gasp for breath, no other sound but of air leaving his lungs escaping parted lips.

Effortlessly, Alan unbuttoned and unzipped Harry’s trousers, pushing them down with fingers trailing strong thighs, knees and calves, lips ignoring Harry’s already hard need in favor of littering open-mouthed wet kisses down parted legs. Throwing Harry’s clothes on the floor, Alan took his own shirt off before kneeling between Harry’s legs and bowing down to kiss his lover, sighing when Harry’s hands settled on his shoulders and slid down strong arms, trailing back up to cup his head, the kiss deepening and filling with passion.

**cut**

_Like the echoes of our souls are meeting,_   
_I say those words, my heart stops beating._   
_I wonder what it means?_

**cut**

Alan moved back and looked into Harry’s unseeing orbs, weight braced on his left elbow as he raised his right hand to caress the wizard’s handsome face with the back of his fingers.

“Alan?” The way his name rolled off of Harry’s lips in a breathless whisper sent a shiver down the Emissary’s back, and he kissed Harry, grinding his hips down against the wizard’s, making Harry gasp against his mouth and arch up into him.

Harry slipped a hand between them, the other cupping the back of Alan’s neck, and hurried to release Alan from the confines of his pants and boxers, the Druid shivering at the unintended teasing caress against his almost achingly hard length.

A second later Alan found himself on his back and Harry slipped down his body, taking Alan’s clothes off of him before climbing over his lover and kissing full, lush, wet lips.

It was Alan’s turn to be left breathless and wanting, because Harry didn’t lose time. As though making a mental map, Harry’s fingers and lips traced every hard part of Alan’s torso on their way down, and the Emissary entwined his fingers in Harry’s hair, remembering in time to be gentle as he released those raven tresses from the small, black band, allowing it to spill over Harry’s shoulders as the loose braid unraveled.

Just as Harry’s warm breath caressed the heated flesh of Alan’s hard cock, and those silky tresses brushed against Alan’s quivering thighs and hips, the Emissary thought that maybe they were going too fast, that maybe they should wait for just a bit more, but when Harry’s lips closed over the head of his aching sex, Alan lost all thought, surrendering to the passion which coursed through his veins and the need which ignited every nerve in his body.

**cut**

_What could it be_   
_that comes over me?_   
_At times I can’t move._   
_At times I can hardly breathe._

**cut**

Alan’s lips parted and eyes slid closed, breath hitching in his throat as Harry swallowed around the head of his cock, dexterous hands rubbing Alan’s sides at the same time reassuring and asking him to be still, which was proving quite a difficult feat, because all Alan wanted was to lay Harry on his back and take him.

But even those thoughts vanished as Harry slowly started to bob his head, each time taking more and more of Alan’s hot member into his mouth, skillful tongue teasing the slit of the head and pressing against the thick vein as Harry moved up.

“Harry…” The wizard hummed and every muscle in Alan’s body coiled when Harry swallowed him whole, stilling for a moment to savor the feel of Alan’s hard length on his tongue, the taste of pre-come already escaping the hot member.

Hardly controlling himself Harry slowly raised his head, but before he could continue pleasuring his soon-to-be-lover, Alan tugged on his hair and Harry tilted his head up. He didn’t resist it when Alan cupped his face in his trembling hands and pulled him up into a kiss, tasting himself on Harry’s swollen lips.

Being made to straddle Alan’s wide hips, Harry whined when his aching cock rubbed against Alan’s, sighing when strong hands took a firm hold of his thighs and flipped them over.

Not having the need to speak, Harry merely thought of the few words which would make all of this far more easier, stopping the stilling of the moment by avoiding the need to search for a bottle of lotion or condoms.

As Alan broke the kiss, Harry took the Emissary’s right hand into his left to lead it to his wet entrance, lifting his head to nibble on Alan’s ear, knowing it would drive the Emissary insane with need.

And he wasn’t mistaken.

He could only gasp and arch up into Alan, head hitting the mattress and hand wrapping around Alan’s wrist while the other fisted in the rumpled covers above his head as the Druid pressed two fingers against Harry’s hole, one breaching the tight ring of muscle not going further than the first knuckle.

Pushing his leg between Harry’s, Alan hid his face in the wizard’s neck, mouthing at the tender skin just below Harry’s ear, slowly pushing his finger deeper and deeper into the inviting warmth, his cock rubbing against Harry’s thigh. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut when he felt Harry hold his breath and still as Alan pushed his finger all the way in agonizingly slow, knowing how much pleasure it brought to Harry.

He kissed and nipped on Harry’s neck and shoulders, slowly thrusting in and out of Harry’s entrance, intent on making the wizard feel nothing but immense pleasure.

Harry’s lips parted in a soundless scream when another finger was added, stretching him that much more and preparing him for something much, much bigger. He used to imagine Alan doing this to him on many a lonely night when need got the better of him and loneliness took hold. He would muffle his cries with the pillow, allowing it to soak in his tears, his own fingers not good enough, not _nearly_ good enough to bring him the pleasure he knew only Alan could give him.

When he felt Alan move away slightly, Harry knew the Emissary was watching him. Before it would make him embarrassed, make him beg Alan to stop looking at him, and now it only excited him more, knowing how much he wished he could _see_ the other man enjoying his ministrations.

But he could feel it. Harry could feel what he was doing to Alan. He could feel the rising warmth of the Emissary’s body, the heat, need and desire, the love and passion rolling off of the other man in waves. He didn’t need to see to know that Alan loved him.

He needed only to feel.

**cut**

_You’re the one I’ve always thought of._   
_I don’t know how but I feel sheltered in your love._   
_You’re where I belong._

**cut**

The adding of the third finger brought nothing but a small spark of discomfort which quickly melted into pleasure when Alan curled his fingers and made Harry whine in need.

As though that was enough to prompt the other man, Alan pulled his fingers out of Harry, grunting when the Lord flipped them over and straddled Alan’s hips. Harry reached behind himself and took a hold of Alan’s hard member, covering it in conjured lube as the Emissary took a firm hold of Harry’s hips, eyes focused on Harry’s beautiful face as the Lord led Alan’s cock to his entrance and slowly started lowing himself on it.

Seeking to steady himself, Harry fisted his hands on Alan’s chest, eyes pressed tightly shut and teeth biting into a bottom lip, brow furrowed in concentration and body trembling with strain, wishing to have Alan fully inside him but unable to move faster because the other man’s hold on his hips made sure that Harry wouldn’t hurt himself in his desire to satisfy the roaring need setting his body aflame.

Harry’s head fell back and his lips parted in a soundless gasp when Alan’s searing hot member filled him completely, and Alan had to pull on every bit of self-control he had to stop himself from coming there and then.

His Harry looked beautiful, all debouched and wanton. A blush was covering his cheeks, hair fell around his shoulders, sticking to the sweat-sleeked body and flushed face, chest falling and rising with Harry heaving for breath and trembling with need.

When Alan rolled his hips up, Harry’s eyes snapped open and a gasp escaped his lips, and as though they’ve been doing this for years, the wizard slowly rose off of Alan’s cock, slowly lowering not a second later.

It didn’t take long for them to find a slow rhythm, and Harry leaned forward, hands fisted in the covers framing Alan’s head, raven tresses falling like a curtain to hide them from the world.

The pleasure which cursed through his veins, the love he felt in every firm caress of Alan’s hands on his thighs, hips and waist, and the simple feeling of _belonging_ which took over him, brought tears to Harry’s eyes, and he cried out when Alan flipped them over, framing Harry’s head with strong forearms and quickening the rhythm, knowing that neither would last long.

**cut**

_And when you’re with me if I close my eyes_   
_there I times I swear I feel like I can fly,_   
_for a moment in time,_   
_somewhere between the heavens and earth._   
_I’m frozen in time, oh when you say those words._

**cut**

“Alan!” Harry whimpered, arms wrapping around Alan’s shoulders and thighs pressing against the Druid’s sides as Alan changed the direction of his thrusts, hitting Harry’s prostate with precision and intent.

Fumbling for a second, Alan tucked his hand between them taking a hold of Harry’s neglected member, pumping in time with his quickening thrusts. Harry cried out his release a moment later, coming in Alan’s hand, and the cramping of his almost impossibly tight hole drew Alan over the edge, making him spill inside the welcoming warmth.

He caught his weight in the last second, stopping himself from falling on top of Harry.

Opening his eyes, Alan looked down at his lover, leaning in to kiss away the few tears which escaped Harry’s eyes.

Those unseeing orbs opened and Harry cupped Alan’s face between his trembling hands, pulling him down into a kiss. “I love you, Alan,” he whispered brokenly. “I love you so much.

Alan closed his eyes and joined their foreheads, heart beating so hard it appeared as though it wanted to escape his chest.

“I love you too, my Harry. I love you too."

**cut**

_When you say you love me, the world goes still_   
_-so still inside._   
_And when you say you love me,_   
_in that moment I know why I’m alive._

**cut**

(1) _Nature Boy,_ written by Eden Ahbez, published by LYRICS © WARNER/CHAPPEL MUSIC, INC.  
(2) _Trying Not To Love You,_ written by Brett Warren, Brad Warren, and Chad Kroeger, published by, LYRICS© EMI MUSIC PUBLISHING   
(3) _Blue Evening,_ written by Rupert Brooke  
(4) _When You Say You Love Me,_ written by M. Hammond and R. Scoffield, published by LYRICS © CHRYSALIS ONE MUSIC, SONY/ATV MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC

**cut**


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